Between Times
by Crisium
Summary: The death of the Emperor and the Daedric invasion create a different set of challenges for Morrowind. Two adventurers have to discover who is using the Oblivion Crisis as an opportunity to tear the Empire apart, and stop them.
1. Chapter 1

Disclaimer: Morrowind and Oblivion belong to Bethesda. Not me.

As of February 2013, the story has been revised. As a result, comments and reviews may reflect content that has since been cut, altered, or been reshuffled into different chapters. Since this revision is resulting in an overall lower chapter count, I'm not certain what's going to happen to reviews for chapters that no longer exist. In case they disappear into the ether, let me say again: I appreciate every review and every reader. You're all fantastic.

* * *

"I can't believe Cienne had another baby," Uncle Irlav said, for the sixth or seventh time that evening. He'd been pacing across the lower level inn for some time now, talking almost constantly. I had the feeling he enjoyed the sound of his voice and that my brother and I were just the most convenient audience available.

No doubt if we left he'd be upstairs, bothering the barmaid.

If Brennan was irritated, he gave no sign of it, but I'd been waiting for my uncle to leave so that I could read uninterrupted and he showed no signs of going away. If anything, a steady supply of flin had only made him louder and sharper.

The noise and constant motion of being back in a Redoran city set me off balance and put my teeth on edge. Home was quiet, all peaceful gardens and books and silver bowls of water that reflected the first pale stars of twilight. Nothing like the cramped downstairs of a little inn, squeezed into the corner of a bustling town.

When I'd left Ald'ruhn I was a child, and now I was a grown woman, a priestess of Azura. Being back here I felt like both at once, an uncomfortable combination that was neither here nor there. I should have been better able to deal with in-between things and in-between feelings, and the sense of my own failing only made my mood worse.

"You could go visit him again in the morning," suggested Brennan with a mild smile. "It might be a little unlikely, but he's here, in the flesh." Ah, my baby brother. I knew where this conversation was going, and knew that he was trying to head it off.

But Uncle would have none of it. "It's just strange. Having a baby, at their age, with two grown children already." He scoffed. "Though you two are strange enough yourselves, aren't you?" He refilled his cup from the little bottle on the table, frowning sourly.

_Here it comes_, I thought, swallowing anger_._ The old argument, dragged out every now and then and dusted off. _I will be patient, I will be calm_, I thought. _I will be gone in two days and will not have to see him again for years… _

"It's damned irregular for two children who aren't dog-ugly or dirt poor to run off for the temples and leave your poor mother and Fa alone. Letting the family line end, just like that. It's not right." He took a long draw from his cup.

Never mind that the man had no children of his own and hadn't done a damned thing about keeping the family line going himself.

Brennan tried to pacify him. "But now the family line has not ended, has it? The odds that Cedric will grow up to be a priest seem quite low." He smiled again. He'd always been a kind and dreamy boy, but years as a priest of Stendarr had turned him into the mildest, most gentle man I'd ever known, and it's hard to argue with someone so genial. He continued, "So this birth should be even more of a celebration than normal, don't you think? It's not only a new life that's come into the family; it's a revitalization of the family line. Certainly it's a cause for joy."

"Huzzah," I murmured, managing to keep a bland expression even as Brennan kicked my ankle under the table.

Uncle didn't appear pacified at all. "No parent's luck is bad enough to have three children in the priesthood. It's just..."

"Irregular," I said.

"Exactly." Uncle Irlav hadn't heard the sarcasm, but I noticed the corners of Brennan's mouth twitch.

"And we couldn't have the religious community become dependent on our family to supply them with fresh crops of novices all the time," Brennan said, pushing his cup around the table top. "That just wouldn't do at all." His eyes twinkled.

Uncle Irlav grimaced and headed back upstairs, probably for another drink.

I cracked open my book again but couldn't concentrate on the words. I wanted to go home. I'd seen the baby and it looked like every other baby I'd ever seen, and Mother was well and Fa was pleased and that was wonderful but my uncles and cousins and great-aunts were driving me mad. Fa's brothers weren't so bad, really, just great hairy Nords who might accidentally knock you down with a pat on the back. But Mother's brothers were Bretons, and from Cyrodiil, and they were a different story.

Brennan kicked my ankle again and whispered, "He's just going to come back. Let's get out."

I nodded agreement and we headed upstairs. Maybe Uncle hadn't gone for a drink after all; I couldn't see him anywhere. We were out the door and in the streets of Ald'ruhn in moments, and after the boxed-in feeling of the inn, the fresh, sharp wind was bracing.

We walked in silence for a few minutes, lost in our own thoughts. I looked up at the stars, tracing in my mind the familiar constellations, feeling the pull of the coming dawn. It was later than I'd thought in the inn. Without the markers of sun and moons and stars, I'd gotten disoriented, but here, now, everything felt better under the open sky.

"Are you all right?" Brennan asked. The wind was already dying down into nothing, wrapping us in stillness. "You've been quiet."

"I guess so," I answered, crossing my arms tight. "I mean. There isn't anything wrong." Nothing that I could put into words, anyway, and nothing that would make any sense if I tried. He looked weary, I noticed suddenly. More drawn than I'd seen before. "Are _you_ all right?"

His answering smile was thin. "I've no reason not to be. I will be," he amended, and didn't look like he wanted to discuss the subject further.

I knew the feeling. "We'll be all right," I told him, and put an arm around him briefly for an awkward sideways hug. "We will," I insisted when he only looked amused, and for a moment, I even believed it. Behind us, Skar loomed up from the dust, timeless and unassailable. Above us, the stars shone as they always had. The blight was gone, the Empire flourished, and there was peace. There was a new baby that looked like an old man resting in my mother's arms, a quiet temple waiting for my return, a brother who loved and understood me, and all of steadfast Ald'ruhn for my sanctuary, and it was enough. There, in the hours before dawn on the twenty-seventh of Last Seed, I was at peace.

It was the last peaceful day I would have for a long time.

-oOo-

I couldn't for the life of me find the temple's copy of _Palla_. It wasn't filed where it was supposed to be and I'd already searched all the bookshelves I could reach. On my spot on the ladder I held four other volumes I'd found stuffed out of place in my search. The tops of the shelves hadn't been dusted in ages, and the last gasp of summer's heat made the room stiflingly hot. A bead of sweat trickled down the back of my neck, and the dust and fuzz clung to my sticky skin.

I was edgy. The whole temple was edgy, really. I'd been home for almost a month, but the temple wasn't as quiet or reflective as I'd expected. By the time I arrived the seers had already started collapsing in fits of agony that struck without warning and at any time of the day or night. The heat meant we'd all been sleeping with the windows open, trying to make the most of the breeze, so we were all disturbed at the sound of women waking up sobbing at the horrors that haunted their dreams. A few cried over the plight of innocents, wailing over visions of burning cities and orphaned children. One seer had become convinced the world was ending—a catastrophe that might be five minutes or a thousand years away—and she sat on the stairs that led down to the beach, staring out to sea and waiting for the end. As far as I knew, she hadn't eaten or spoken in days. No one had had more than a few hours of sleep a night in weeks, so those of us not cursed with visions of doom snapped at each other in impatience and uncharacteristic anger.

I'd thought to snag a book and sneak off to read by the beach for the afternoon, but looking for a book had turned into a fixation on finding _Palla_, and I'd ended up on my ladder. My dress plastered itself to my back uncomfortably, and I decided to give it up.

I climbed down and stepped into the aisle just in time to bump into my friend Fena, who'd been running towards the opposite hall. "Oh!" she managed. "I'm sorry! I was just coming to find you and I didn't—oh!" She was grinning even as she apologized, bouncing from foot to foot and glancing at the hall.

She had to be the first person to smile in weeks. "What's got you so excited?" I asked, putting the books down and swiping at a long smear of dust on my arm.

"He's here," she whispered, grin growing wider.

I frowned. "Who?"

Her expression went conspiratorial. "The Nerevarine."

Despite the heat, I went cold. He was supposed to be in Akavir for ages yet! How could he be here? Fena elbowed me sharply, and I startled out of my little reverie to realize here didn't just mean _around here somewhere_, here meant standing right there in the hallway with the High Priestess, looking at me strangely. When the High Priestess continued down the hall he hesitated, and gave me a last look I couldn't decipher before he turned to follow.

Once he was out of sight, I sank to the nearest chair, my mind a blur. Why? Why was he here? Why had he stopped? _And why, I'd like to know_, I thought sharply at any deities who might be listening, _did it have to be right at the moment I most resembled a dirty mop?_

"I knew you'd want to know," Fena told me, and then took in the sight of me and her grin faded. "You… might want to get cleaned up, though." She dusted off my shoulder and walked off, and I buried my head in my hands.

-oOo-

It was night when a novice cracked my door and whispered, "High Priestess wants to see you."

I glanced out the window at the sky. "What, now?" It was getting close to midnight. The High Priestess never even stayed up past ten, much less had meetings at this hour.

The novice nodded. "Right now. She sent me to fetch you." She bit her lip nervously.

If I was being summoned, there was nothing for it. I bent over the little table and blew out my lantern, then followed the novice out into the dim hallway. As soon as I'd been led far enough, apparently, the novice started scurrying away, leaving me in front of the door alone. It couldn't bode well, I thought, and tried to suppress a squirm of nervousness, and I rapped on the door twice.

"Come in, child," came the voice from the other side. I stepped inside, and she called again from around the corner, "We're in here."

We?

I walked past her desk into the little sitting area to find the High Priestess sitting in her old chair like it was a throne, though I thought she looked even more closed-off than normal. Beside her, looking tired and angry, was the Nerevarine. Normally, I'd have been invited to sit. Instead, the High Priestess took a slow breath and announced, "A situation has come to my attention which requires your aid. The Nerevarine has brought news, and believes action must be taken. I will leave it to him to explain the details."

At this, he grimaced at the floor. Not good news, then.

"You are released from your duties at present," she went on, her expression going more reserved by the word. "You are to aid the Nerevarine to the fullest in his current endeavor, whatever it might require. When the situation is resolved, return to the temple. Given the nature of the situation and the lateness of the hour, the two of you may discuss the necessary course of action elsewhere."

With that, she got to her feet. We'd clearly been dismissed.


	2. Chapter 2

Once we'd been shown out and the door shut behind us, the Nerevarine stalked down the corridor in the direction of the courtyard, and I followed at a trot to keep up. Outside, he headed for the low wall of the courtyard, looking out to sea.

Nights here were mild and the breeze off the water was calming and soft, almost like a caress. He seemed to lean into it for a moment, and without turning around, told me, "You're going to want to sit down."

There were low benches near the wall; I sat down on the closest one in a circle of torchlight. I had the feeling my mind should be busy trying to puzzle through what I'd been told, but I only felt very still.

He didn't turn around. "The Emperor and all his heirs are dead."

It almost didn't register at first. I didn't think anything, didn't feel anything. Then, like a drop of ink in a glass of water, I could feel it begin to bloom and twist: fear.

"Murdered. By assassins no one knows, rumor has it," he went on, turning my way.

"_Rumor_ has it?" I asked.

He gave a grim smile. "I thought you'd catch that. Yes, rumor. The Emperor and all his sons dead, and not so much as a whisper from the Elder Council to Morrowind about the culprits. Not one official word."

"Could it be a lie?"

He shook his head. "I don't think it can be. People have started getting letters from relatives all over Cyrodiil writing about it. One of them sent this." He handed me a folded paper.

Carefully, I spread the page out. "The Black Horse Courier?" I asked.

"A newspaper based in the Imperial City. They're a little sensationalist sometimes, but generally reliable."

I scanned the text quickly. If this was true, the situation sounded bad. It would be catastrophic for the political situation in every part of Tamriel. Many alliances were weak, the Houses of Vvardenfell were ambitious, there'd been unrest in Elsweyr… and that was just what I knew about. I'd been living at the quiet edge of the map for almost ten years. I handed the newspaper back, thinking hard, and the Nerevarine was quiet, letting me process the news.

Then a thought struck me and I pulled the paper back from his hands to look at the date on it again. "This happened almost a _month_ ago?" I asked.

He didn't answer.

"We would have heard," I insisted.

"You're more shielded out here than you think. And the general feeling I've seen is that people are hunkering down to see what will happen, not rushing out to gossip with their neighbors. But I think, from what your High Priestess told me, your seers might already have known." He sat down on the stone of the floor, rubbing his face with one hand. "It gets worse. Much worse." He stretched out his legs one at a time, looking pained. "Gods, I feel like I've been walking for years. I think I _have_ been walking for years."

He shifted around, and finally settled. For a moment, I saw him sitting on the ground looking up at me, and also saw him as I'd first seen him:

_Injured. A broken ankle and some broken ribs, at least, with deep scrapes on his side. Dirty, exhausted, and out of water. I'd hesitated. I hadn't expected him to be Imperial. Or so young. _

_He'd frowned at me, sizing me up. "Who are you? What do you want?"_

_I'd knelt by his head and brought my water skin to his parched mouth, and he drank greedily. I'd tried to slow him down, to pull away so he didn't get sick but he'd seized my wrist and pulled the skin down again, taking the water in long gulps. When he'd had enough, he'd pushed it away and demanded again, _"_Who are you?" _

"_I was sent from the Temple of Azura to help you." I'd started unpacking supplies, and when he gave a short, bitter laugh, I'd looked up in surprise. "What? Did you think you'd be sent out on a task this important without being looked after?"_

_He laughed again, less bitterly, grimacing at the pain. "I was beginning to wonder."_

I blinked and found him looking up at me expectantly. I shook my head, trying to clear my thoughts. "It gets worse?"

"Yes. In a number of ways." He frowned. "There are daedra in Tamriel."

Well, of course there were, I thought, if you went off the beaten track.

At my lack of reaction, he clarified, "It looks like there's some sort of daedric invasion into Tamriel. There are reports of circles of fire opening up and daedra pouring out by the dozens. I think there's a town in Cyrodiil that's been almost totally destroyed, but the reports are sketchy. And Cyrodiil's different anyway, you don't generally catch clannfear out roaming the wilderness."

"Circles of fire?" I'd never heard of anything like that. Especially nothing that could provide a gateway to dozens of daedra at a time. "But that… would imply a stable portal between Tamriel and Oblivion," I said slowly, "and that's impossible."

"It seems to be possible now."

I frowned. "Did your reports mention which types of daedra?" He shook his head. "Did this start happening a month ago too?"

"No. Two weeks ago. Reports are that there's increased daedric activity on Vvardenfell, too, though no one's seen any of these circles of fire."

"Who are you getting your reports from?" I asked. If the source wasn't reliable, the information wasn't reliable, and in the face of not knowing what to make of what he'd told me, I seized on that. If we could disprove the source, the information would be untrue and nothing would really be wrong after all, certainly no… no _invasion _of daedra into Tamriel.

His laugh was short and not particularly amused. "Oh, you know. Everyone I talk to. For some reason, rambling from one side of Tamriel to the other handing out gold and gifts and bribes seems to make a man lots of friends." His smile died. "There's more, too. Khuul and Ald Velothi have been attacked. Four days ago."

"By daedra?"

"No. By Nords. From Solstheim, according to survivors. Though it doesn't sound like there are too many of those." He frowned, chewing it over. "And that brings its own problems."

I tried to work it through for a moment. "Problems besides towns being attacked?"

"You know there are certain… groups… in Morrowind that are not sanguine about Imperial presence on Vvardenfell," he said. "And less politely, human presence on Vvardenfell." I nodded. "Khuul and Ald Velothi are mostly merish settlements. The raiders were human. We've got at least a couple dozen Dunmer dead, and another hundred in the vicinity displaced and angry. On the other hand, the human emperor is dead, and that leaves a mer at the head of the government, at least for now. From what I understand there's the thought floating around that if there were a good time to discourage human presence on Vvardenfell, this would be it."

"You don't think Chancellor Ocato is involved, do you?" It seemed implausible, but he was the mer currently at the head of the government.

"Oh, no. No, there's nothing that points to him. There's nothing that points to anybody specifically, yet. And I've met Ocato," he said, stretching again. "I don't think he'd be involved in something like this."

My mind spun. I tried to put it all together, prodding at the information in my head to make it all make sense, but it wouldn't. The Nerevarine got up from the ground to sit beside me on my bench, hands together and head bowed. If I didn't know better, I would have thought he was praying.

"Do you have some sort of plan?" I asked.

We both startled at the high, thin wail from the temple, but it died away to sobs after a moment. Another nightmare, or a vision, no doubt. It seemed to unsettle him; he shifted on the bench. "I don't know yet. I know that sounds ridiculous." It didn't, I thought, but he sighed and went on, "I have the feeling there's something at work in Vvardenfell. Something hostile, working from the shadows. I need more information before I can start formulating a plan." He looked at me. "That's where you come in."

I'd nearly forgotten. "Me? Why?"

"Because I'm afraid we might be short on time. Because if you'll remember I was dumped on my ass on this island and didn't know a damned thing about anything and it took me _ages_ to kill Dagoth Ur. If She wants me to fix this, then I'm not doing it alone again." He pushed to his feet to pace.

"She?" I asked quietly.

"Yes, She. Take a guess. It's not like you get a lot of choices when a Daedra Lord takes an interest in you." He rubbed his eyes. "You know how much time I spent lost last time when you weren't around. Or running around in circles because I didn't know what questions to ask, or who to ask, or _how_ to ask. I'm not doing that again." He looked at me. "I want you to be my advisor."

I stared at him, too surprised for words.

"And not just for a day here and a day there whenever the temple feels like throwing scraps my way," he went on, voice sour.

I managed to ask, "Why?"

"Pick a reason. You know the land, you know the people. You're human, and so non-threatening to the Empire; you're a priestess of Azura, and so non-threatening to the Dunmer. Most Dunmer, anyway." He smiled at the thought, a quick, feral expression. "You're a fair healer, I happen to know, and I'd rather not have to run around hurt if I'm wounded. You know a lot of the old histories that I don't, you know how they fit together. You could pass for Cyrodiilic if you had to."

I tried not to gape. "Are we going to have to go to Cyrodiil?" I managed. It had always seemed far away, but facing the prospect of actually going there, I quailed. It might as well have been the other side of the world.

He shook his head. "No. I hope not."

I swallowed hard and tried to think. "You know that there are other priestesses who would make better advisors."

He grimaced a little. "That's what the High Priestess said when I asked for you."

I couldn't help the small, incredulous laugh that came out of my mouth. "You _asked_ for me?" I didn't know whether to be flattered by his request or irritated at the thought that authority over me could be transferred so easily. I especially didn't know what to make of him asking for my aid—and getting it—after all that had happened before.

But he nodded, all seriousness. "Specifically."

I thought that over for a moment.

He continued on, voice lower than before, "More than anything, I need someone I can trust. Someone not trying to bend me to their agenda. Someone I know won't try to knife me in my sleep." He sounded bitter again. "I'm not asking you to fight. Patch me up if I have to fight, yes, but I'm not sending you into battle. Look. I know it's late, and you're probably tired. I'm tired, too." He didn't look tired, I thought. He looked utterly exhausted. "And if you don't want to go I'll tell the High Priestess…" He trailed off.

"I'll go." The words were out of my mouth before I really knew what I was saying. I think I surprised myself more than I surprised him.

"Good. Thank you." He smiled, but it looked weak. "We'll leave mid-morning, make for Vos. You should go in and get some rest." He turned and went back into the temple, leaving me alone with my thoughts.


	3. Chapter 3

Every morning at the temple of Azura, the acolytes assembled in the courtyard overlooking the sea to watch the breaking dawn. Usually it was a quiet time in which we were encouraged to reflect in the ways we most enjoyed, to find peace inside ourselves to carry us through the day.

This particular morning, I couldn't find that peace. I'd agreed readily enough to go with the Nerevarine, but in the hours since then I'd been thinking about what I'd be leaving behind and it made my heart twinge in dismay. The temple was my home. I'd grown up here, in a lot of ways. I'd lived through almost ten years of dusks and dawns, and my friends were here.

The idea of leaving was more painful than I'd expected.

Rays of fiery orange painted the sky, growing brighter, and I gripped the top of the courtyard wall tightly. Change was coming, I could feel it, and I tried to find the grace in myself to embrace it, but I couldn't. I was afraid, and my mind rebelled against going along quietly.

Beside me, Fena took my free hand and clasped it tightly as the sun rose. We'd been novices together. She was my best friend, and in a decade's time we'd never spent more than a couple of weeks apart. As the other women turned to go back into the temple in a swish of blue dresses and quiet voices, I stayed put. I wiped at my eyes and glanced down at Fena, who was doing the same thing, and when we caught each other at it, we both laughed a little.

"This is silly, you know," I said around the thickness in my throat. "I'll be back in a few weeks." She nodded, her blond curls bobbing around her face.

She didn't let go of my hand, just squeezed tighter after a moment, and something pressed into my palm. A ring, plain and silver, so big I wondered how she could possibly have worn it. "It's supposed to be lucky," she told me. "I want you to take it." I managed a thanks and slid it on my thumb, and she looked at the sky again and shook herself. "Come on, then. Just think, your last good meal before you get to live off bug meat and raw eggs and take baths in rain puddles!"

-oOo-

By midmorning I'd said my goodbyes and taken my formal leave of the temple to find the Nerevarine waiting outside the main door. I followed him onto the road. Despite the warmth of the morning he was well-armored, and had his sword strapped to his hip. "Are we expecting trouble?"

"No. Not particularly. But it's better to be well-prepared."

After about an hour and a half of walking in somewhat less than comfortable silence, I could see Vos in the near distance. "So," I began, trying to sound more certain than I felt, "did you come up with a plan, Nerevarine?"

He grimaced. "I'd rather you not call me that. I have a name, you know."

I swallowed surprise. I knew he had a name, though I hadn't heard it spoken in years. I'd never even said it, myself. To most of the people I knew, he was The Nerevarine. Nothing as mundane as a given name would do. "Darius," I ventured.

"And I'd rather not call you Sister, or Priestess, or whatever other title you've got." He huffed a thin laugh at my expression. "If it's all the same to you, you call me Darius and I'll call you Alora and we can pretend to be regular people for a while instead of daedra-driven fools."

I didn't have a response for that.

"To answer your question, we're going to see Vivec. If he doesn't know something directly there's a good chance that he'll be able to point us in the right direction. If not…" He frowned. "We might end up going to Mournhold to meet with Helseth. Worst case scenario, we'll have to go talk to Ocato, since the bulk of the trouble seems to be coming from Cyrodiil."

I thought of how long the journey would be to the Imperial City, and tried not to feel homesick already.

-oOo-

When we came to Sadrith Mora, I had expected us to find a guild guide to take us to Vivec. It would have been an easy trip, just the work of a few moments, but I asked Darius about it, and the answer was no. Definitively, absolutely _no_. When I asked why, he said only that he didn't have many friends in the Mages Guild, and certainly no one he trusted enough to send him across Vvardenfell with a thought, and that, apparently, was that.

When we left Sadrith Mora that morning it was barely raining, but once we were out on the open water the wind howled and rain poured down in sheets. Down in the cabin the sounds of the storm were muffled, but I could feel the ship lurch and shudder as it plowed on southward. For most of the trip Darius had been lying on the floor with his pack under his head, eyes closed, and I couldn't tell if he was sleeping or not. I should have packed a book, I thought. With nothing to do but listen to the storm and fidget, I was getting anxious.

"You should rest while you can," he said without opening his eyes.

"I'm not tired."

"You will be, if you keep fretting like that. This ship has seen worse."

I picked at my fingernails. I wasn't afraid, exactly, not of anything in particular. I'd just be glad to have dry land under my feet again. "Are we going to the palace as soon as we land, or are we going to overnight somewhere?"

"No, it's going to be pretty late when we make landfall. It'll depend on what kind of transport's available when we hit Tel Branora. If we have to stay somewhere overnight, I'd rather stay in Ebonheart."

"Why?"

He laughed a little, though he still hadn't opened his eyes. "All in all, I think there are fewer people there who might want to kill me. You have any objections to Ebonheart?"

I shook my head, before realizing he wasn't looking. "No, no objections. My brother's there."

"Legion?"

"Priest of Stendarr."

"You people are crazy." I didn't know what to say to that. I started picking at my fingernails again. I had the feeling I'd be biting them soon. Darius finally opened one eye, glancing across the room at me. "Do you play cards?"

-oOo-

We made landfall in Tel Branora just in time to catch a ship to Ebonheart, which was a stroke of luck. Nestled in the middeck, Darius and I sat on the floor playing cards. Or rather, I was trying to play. He seemed more interested in lecturing me about the game than anything.

At least I finally had a good hand. He bet, and I bet higher. "No," he corrected me immediately, "if you're going to raise it's got to be a multiple of the original bet. I bet four, and you've got six here. Are you going to make it eight?" I nodded. He promptly shoved over sixteen more coins, re-raising me.

I thought for a moment, frowning, considering my cards. "I don't think you've got a good enough hand to beat me."

He snorted. "Oh? What do you have?" I twisted my wrist to show him my cards and he blinked in surprise. "Oh, gods. No. Don't do that." He laughed, looking as though he was enjoying himself. "You're not supposed to show your cards to anyone unless you have to. As long as no one knows what you've got, you can make them believe you have anything." He gathered up the deck and started re-shuffling, dark hair falling down into his eyes.

I mulled that over in quiet.

"I've been thinking about meeting up with Vivec," he went on, his voice too strained to be casual. "I'd like you to stay quiet when we go talk to him. Keep your eyes and your ears open, and see if he gives away anything. But don't talk to him directly if you can help it. He'll pull more out of you than you want to give away."

He dealt the cards. I pulled up my pair, careful to hold them properly this time. The cards themselves weren't very good, but it could be worked around. I arranged my features into a serene mask that the High Priestess would have been proud of. "It's your bet."

I didn't win that hand, but by the time we pulled into Ebonheart that night I'd won two septims. When we were collecting our things to disembark I offered them back, but he told me to keep them, and when we got to the inn, I bought him a drink.

It seemed only fair.

-oOo-

It was just after dawn the next morning when I slipped into the Imperial chapel. At my entrance, a woman looked up from the book she was writing in, quill hovering delicately over the page. "May I help you?"

"I hope so. I'm Brennan's sister," I explained. "Is there any way I could see him?"

"Certainly. Wait here a moment." She stoppered her inkwell and laid her quill aside, then disappeared behind a nearby door. I roamed around the room for a couple of minutes, admiring the tapestries on the walls.

"I heard a rumor there was an unrepentant heathen in the Imperial chapel." I turned around, grinning, and Brennan caught me in a fierce hug and asked, "What in the world are you doing here?"

I grinned back at him. "Why? Are the Nine going to strike me down? Gang up on me?"

"You shouldn't make fun, but no, I meant what are you doing in Ebonheart? I'm happy to see you, of course, but this isn't exactly your bit of the island." He glanced at the door as though he expected more priestesses to come through.

"I'll explain later, if I can. Could you come have breakfast with me at the inn? I won't have a lot of time here but I wanted to see you."

"What is it, Morndas? Let me go tell Lal where I'm off to."

When we got back to the inn Darius had finally emerged, and was sitting at a table eating. When we sat down, Darius spared a glance for Brennan. "You would be the brother, I assume?"

Brennan held out a hand. "Brennan, yes. I'm a priest at the chapel here. And you are?"

Darius took my brother's hand and shook it once, firmly. "Darius Apinia."

Brennan stared a little. "You're the Nerevarine?" he asked, as though he could hardly believe it. Darius glanced around to see who might be listening, then nodded. Brennan looked at me curiously, and though he didn't say anything, the message was clear: _what are you up to?_

"Don't bother with breakfast, it's not very good. Unless you like raw eggs." Darius pushed his plate away. "We probably need to head to the dock anyway."

Though the storm had broken last night, the weather still looked chancy. The wind was gusty and flat gray clouds scuttled across the sky, and the little boat bobbed in the water, pulling against its rope like a rebellious animal. Brennan walked down to the bank, looking out at the sea. "On second thought," said Darius, looking down at the boat, "It's nearly as fast to walk to Vivec. And I imagine you've had enough of the water." He looked over at me. "Fine with you?"

I nodded and jerked my head in Brennan's direction and raised my eyebrows. _Can he come? _

Darius frowned, but it only lasted a moment. "You're welcome to join us if you'd like," he told Brennan. "We want to make good time. Are you interested?"

"Of course." He turned our way and gave a quick smile. "Give me ten minutes?"

When he was out of earshot, Darius leaned close and asked, "Can we trust him?"

I frowned, startled. "What do you mean?"

"I mean, if we talk about what's going on, is he going to be able to keep it quiet? Are you sure he can be trusted?"

_He's my brother_, I wanted to say, and: _when did you get so paranoid?_ But I settled for, "Yes, absolutely." I thought for a minute. "Are we trying to be stealthy about this? It doesn't seem to me like we have been." Darius had rented out a room twice in his own name. It's not as though we were staying off the main path and only traveling at night. It certainly didn't feel like we were undercover.

"No, we're not trying to be stealthy. We haven't done anything out of the ordinary; there's nothing to be stealthy about. I'd just like to keep things as quiet as possible, for now." He blew out a breath, sounding dissatisfied, but said, "If you say he can be trusted, I'll take your word for it."

Not long after that the three of us were on the road, walking steadily and making pretty good time. I nudged Brennan with a shoulder. "Sorry if I disrupted anything. I know we just charged in."

"Actually, I managed to get out on official business. Book-fetching." He jingled the little pouch of gold at his belt.

As the city loomed closer, I couldn't help but think about what Darius had said about Vivec, about him pulling more from me than I wanted to give away. It was a daunting prospect, I had to admit, but there was nothing for it. We were on our way.


	4. Chapter 4

Brennan had already heard about the Emperor's death, the daedra, and the attacks on the northwestern coast. "It was Kvatch," he said absently, looking up at the canton we were approaching. The sun had finally broken through a little, and it glinted off his light brown hair, looking like a halo.

"What was Kvatch?"

"The city in Cyrodiil that was destroyed. There was some sort of siege. The daedra broke through the city walls in the night." My stomach lurched. "I heard a report a few weeks back," Brennan continued slowly. "Though I didn't know what to make of it." He looked at me, troubled. "At least three shrines to Mehrunes Dagon have gone quiet."

"Gone quiet?" asked Darius.

"Abandoned, from all appearances. More shrines may have been abandoned as well; we've sent out men to find out. I don't know if it's important, but if you're looking into these things, I thought it might be useful."

I bit the inside of my mouth, thinking. "Just Dagon shrines?"

Brennan nodded. "It looks like everyone else is acting normally. At least, acting normally according to their own particular versions of normal."

"What interest does the Imperial Cult have in daedra shrines?" Darius asked.

"We don't typically interfere with them," Brennan explained. "We do keep a broad eye out for any sudden shift in activity, though; it's been a precursor to trouble in the past. And there seems to have been a sudden shift in activity now."

"Those Dagon worshippers had to have gone somewhere." I frowned. "Can we safely assume that it's most likely Mehrunes Dagon behind the daedric invasion?" I was still just getting used to the idea that it was actually an invasion in the first place and not just an overinflated report. The thought of a large-scale invasion orchestrated by Mehrunes Dagon was horrifying, but it made sense, given the circumstances. We had the Daedric Prince associated with bloody revolution and ambition, we had bloody revolution at the highest levels of Imperial power, an invading force of daedra pushing into Tamriel, and now a large number of His followers suddenly abandoned their shrines? It couldn't be coincidence.

"It seems to be the most likely scenario. We were told to keep an eye out for anyone suspicious who might come seeking sanctuary at the chapels. It's possible that if there are plans for an ongoing mass invasion, any Dagon worshippers—or any family they might want to protect—too young or too vulnerable in a fight may try to go to ground. As ironic as it sounds, a chapel of the Nine would be a good hiding place. We'd feed them and shelter them, and never be the wiser." Brennan grimaced in distaste.

"Have you seen anyone suspicious?"

"No, but it's not surprising. Ebonheart is the center of Imperial power on Vvardenfell, it's somewhat less likely they'd come here. I've heard that there were a few people who tried to take sanctuary at Gnisis. I don't know what happened up there. I can find out, though."

"Do that, if you would," said Darius as we crossed the bridge into Hlaalu Canton. "We've got to get to the palace. It was good to meet you."

"And you," Brennan replied, and turned to me. "Are you coming back to Ebonheart after you see Vivec?"

I didn't know and turned to Darius. "It'll depend on what Vivec has to say," he answered, "but it's possible."

"Right," said Brennan. "I might wait around when I get done. I've only got a quick errand. In any case, I'll see you later." He pointed a warning finger at me. "Be careful."

"I will." He turned north, and I watched him go for a little bit before hurrying to catch up with Darius.

-oOo-

Vivec's chamber was darker than I had anticipated, so much so that when we first walked in, I didn't see him. But a dark shape separated itself from the gloom and Vivec himself came into view, holding a walking stick and looking at Darius.

"Nerevarine. What a surprise." He didn't sound surprised at all. He turned his head and looked at me. "Ah. And a priestess of Azura. Interesting." He smiled—not pleasantly—and stopped between Darius and me, leaning on his stick. His golden eyes seemed to suck in the shadows, impossibly deep, impossibly knowing. I could feel the flow and crackle of power around him, a wholly foreign sensation. Even as I squirmed inside from the intensity I knew this was just residual. As a god his presence must have been absolutely overwhelming. He considered me a moment and it seemed as though he was looking directly into my mind, probing every cranny of my thoughts.

"She's just a guide," Darius explained. "I came here to discuss recent events with you."

Vivec smiled, a more terrifying expression than I'd known existed. "If she was just a guide she'd be waiting outside. Since she is not…" He trailed off, giving Darius one of those soul-scouring looks. "You've never had the best luck when it comes to women, have you? They seem to cause… trouble." I swallowed hard. Darius' face was stony.

Vivec continued, "I will overlook your rudeness for now. You say you want to discuss recent events; very well. Discuss them." He turned, more fluidly than I expected, and I wondered if the walking stick was an affectation.

"You know of the royal family's assassination." It wasn't a question.

"Of course."

"You know of the increased daedric presence in Tamriel."

"Yes." Vivec looked bored.

"And you likely already know of the attacks on Khuul and Ald Velothi." Darius' voice had an edge to it now.

"Yes, I know of them."

"Do you know what's going on?"

"You just told me what's going on: the royal family's been assassinated, there's increased daedric presence in Tamriel, and Khuul and Ald Velothi have been attacked," Vivec mocked gently. "As to the next question you'll undoubtedly ask, no, I don't know what's behind it all. My powers of perception have been diminished in recent years, as you're no doubt aware." His glance at Darius was sharp. "I give you my word that neither I nor my agents have had a hand in these events. Does that satisfy you?"

Darius thought for a moment, frowning. "You have no idea who could be behind this?"

Vivec's smile was languid. "The world is ripe with _coulds_, Nerevarine." Darius opened his mouth, and Vivec immediately held up a hand to forestall him. "It _could_ be anyone. The correct question is 'who is likely to be behind this?'"

Darius' expression was grim.

"Do you know who it's likely to be, then?"

Vivec sighed a little and leaned on his walking stick. "The number of people who are likely to try and make a grab for power in the absence of an Emperor is quite large. Other than to tell you to keep an eye on those already in positions of influence, I have little else to say."

"You think this is an attempt to seize power."

"I see little else it could be. You might investigate what Morgiah's been up to. She was ever a devious one." His gaze went distant. "Now I must ask you to go. I tire so easily these days, you must understand," he said. A look at Darius left little doubt who he blamed for that. "Do report back to me when you have more information. It's always so pleasant to see you." He turned and walked away.

-oOo-

Once we got back outside we made our way down the stairs and headed north. We walked quietly for a few minutes, until Darius let out a loud breath and grumbled, "Gods, I hate him." He rubbed his face with both hands, and looked over at me. "Did you get anything from him?"

"Nothing specific," I admitted. "He never actually denied knowing anything, you know, he just talked around it." Darius looked thoughtful. I went on, "It sounded to me like if he does know anything, it's probably vague. Suspicions, perhaps, but no proof. But not suspicions he wants to talk about."

"Hmm," he said, but nothing more.

I wondered what was next. He'd said before that if Vivec didn't know anything he'd have to talk to King Helseth, and since I'd never been to Mournhold—never been off Vvardenfell at all, actually—I wouldn't be much use as an advisor. I wondered if I would be back at the temple by this time tomorrow.

"I have an idea," he said at last. "It's sort of a long shot, but it's better than nothing."

"Can I ask?" His stride was longer than mine, and I had to hurry to keep up.

"I don't know if it'll work. We'll head up to Balmora. If we don't find out anything there, then we'll go to Khuul and do some looking around."

"What's in Balmora?" I asked.

"Friends." That was all he wanted to say on the subject, apparently. We kept walking north and came across Brennan heading our way.

"That was quick," he said when we caught up with him. He fell into step beside us, slinging a pack of books over his back. "Any leads?"

I was thinking about how to answer when Darius did it for me. "Not really. We're heading up to the silt strider now, to get to Balmora. Looks like we won't be heading back to Ebonheart."

It didn't dampen Brennan's good humor. "I'll walk you up there, then."

I eyed his pack. "You get anything good?"

He shook his head. "Just more of the basics, I'm afraid. Ruccia—my superior—she's got no imagination at all."

We rounded the corner of the last canton. From there I could see the silt strider, and a Dunmer coming from it, running our direction as fast as he could go. Darius' hand dropped to the hilt of his sword and his eyes narrowed as he focused. "Ho, friend," he called loudly as the mer got closer, "what's the hurry?"

The Dunmer stopped in front of us, dripping sweat as though he'd been running a long time. "News, sera," he wheezed. "Ald'ruhn was overrun by daedra in the night; there's nothing left. Excuse me, I have to inform the Archcanon." He began to run again, heading past us to the temple, leaving us frozen in shock and horror.

-oOo-

Getting to Ald'ruhn was a nightmare. I was going, without question, and Brennan was just as determined. Thankfully Darius didn't argue, and surprised me by even agreeing to use the guild guide, but when we sprinted up to the Mages Guild we were told that she had gone out and no one knew when to expect her back. The silt strider caravaner refused—understandably—to take us directly to Ald'ruhn, but he did agree to take us to Balmora.

The trip seemed interminable. We rode, watching the scenery go by and watching morning slip into afternoon, and the entire time I clutched at the side of the strider, shaking with fear and willing it to hurry. My mind was a white blank. I couldn't think, and could only feel a heavy, buzzing terror. No one spoke the entire trip, no idle chatter, no words of reassurance. We were islands, isolated from each other by our separate worries, utterly alone.

Balmora was on lockdown. We were greeted at the strider dock by a handful of armed guards with drawn weapons who demanded to know our business, and were hustled from there to the main road and given instructions not to return.

We headed north, reckless with haste. The wildlife seemed frenzied. Twice we came across nix hounds that flung themselves at us madly, and Darius made short work of them. Other animals fought each other, a weird sight like a terribly mismatched arena fight. Rats threw themselves into the teeth of alit. Cliff racers screamed and tore at each other overhead, and all we could do was keep pushing north as quickly as we could go.

The sky began to darken, but it wasn't the natural darkness of nightfall. A deep and bloody red spread across the sky, and the farther we went the worse it became. Cracks of lightning split the sky and thunder rumbled the world around us. The sky didn't look like rain, it looked like a bleeding split in the world. I prayed to Azura under my breath as we hurried, and beside me I could hear Brennan murmuring prayers to the Nine.

I hoped that between us, someone would listen.

When we came upon Buckmoth it appeared to be closed up tight, though it was hard to see through the blowing dust and ash. There were clouds of smoke rising in the near distance, white and dark against the strange redness of the sky. We ran through the haze as quietly as we could, until Darius caught my arm just shy of the city itself. "Wait," he insisted. "You don't know what's out there."

I shook him off. I could see the city, now, and I didn't see any daedra. The buildings themselves hadn't burned—wood wasn't abundant in Ald'ruhn, so the houses weren't made of it—but the destruction was evident nonetheless. Doors were smashed in, and smoke rose from nearly every building. The Fighter's Guild looked like something enormous had erupted from inside of it and left it utterly destroyed. There were bodies in the street, some torn apart, others with limbs at strange angles. And daedra, too: a clannfear slumped in front of the Mages Guild, a dremora that had died on the stairs. I walked into town, Brennan and Darius on either side of me, all three of us silent. My home city, usually so bustling with life and activity, lay still.

From not far off a man shouted, "What do you think you're doing? Get over here, now!" He wore a battered Legion uniform and looked exhausted and afraid as we ran over. "Where did you come from?" But before Darius could explain the Legionnaire's eyes fell on Brennan's robes, the mark of Stendarr. "Are you a healer? We've got wounded." At my brother's affirmative he led us to a little house that had escaped total destruction, away from the main part of the city.

Perhaps a dozen people sat huddled on the floor, nearly motionless, and another four lay stretched out on makeshift beds. One was conscious and moaned faintly in pain, a long gash along his skull. The room smelled of blood and ash.

Brennan and I saw Mother at the same time and rushed over to her. Her lip had been cut but had long since stopped bleeding. Her eyes, normally so jewel-blue and bright, were dull and empty. The baby lay in her arms, terribly still; I didn't know if he was alive. "Mother," I said tentatively, putting a hand on her shoulder, "It's us, we're here." She didn't respond at first. After a moment she stirred and looked at me dazedly, then at Brennan, and with a wordless cry she threw an arm around him. She clung to his shoulder, sobbing and taking great wracking gasps of air, and the baby startled awake and began to wail. The noise made everyone in the house look over.

Behind us, Darius turned to the Legion soldier. "Is this all that's left?"

The soldier nodded. "As best as we can tell. We're shorthanded anyway; we can't send many people out to look around. Most of the daedra are dead or gone back to where they came from, I think, but no one's been into Skar yet, so I don't know. But no one from the Guilds survived. That… _thing_, whatever it was, came up right in the middle of the Fighters Guild." My heart gave a miserable little sideways beat. My father's brothers were Fighter's Guild. I hoped the soldier was wrong.

I turned back to my mother, who had quieted a little, and had started nursing the baby. "Mother," I said quietly. She didn't notice. "Mother, where's Fa?" Brennan looked up at me; Mother didn't. I shook her arm. "Where's Fa?"

She looked at me, finally. "He was at home when the daedra came," she said, voice faint. "I… I haven't seen him." She began crying again, holding the baby in one arm and clutching at Brennan's robe with the other.

Brennan kissed her forehead. "I'm going to see what I can do for these people, okay? I'll be right here if you need me, right here. I'm not going away." He gently pried her fingers loose and settled her other arm around the baby. We stood up together, and he whispered into my ear, "I can't go. I have to do what I can for them. Take Darius, find Fa." I nodded; he was a gifted healer, and should stay with the wounded. But the survivors had come out of it enough for a couple of them to recognize Darius, and it went quickly from a couple of whispers about the Nerevarine to a burst of collective, exhausted relief: the Nerevarine had come to save them. Those who could walk surrounded him, grateful he'd come, talking agitatedly; those who couldn't walk talked anyway, trying to catch his attention.

He was needed here as much as Brennan, I realized, and in the moment the Legion soldier was distracted, I slipped out the door and back into the night.

I made my way up the steps toward Skar, sick at heart. Some people had made it out of their houses and into the street, where they had died anyway. Their faces were familiar. I was born here, had grown up here. These people were my friends and neighbors.

The door to Skar hadn't been broken in like all the others. It took a few tries, throwing my whole weight into the effort, to get the door open. If anything, Under-Skar was worse than the rest of the city. Smoke that had been trapped inside billowed out when the door opened. I stepped forward and immediately fell, slipping down the wooden bridge that had gone slick. I reached a hand out to catch myself but couldn't get a grip on anything, and in a moment I was at the bottom, landing in a pile of bodies. The smell was overpowering: burned flesh, charred wood, and hours-old blood and viscera. I swallowed nausea and hauled myself upward, struggling toward my mother's shop, toward my father.

The door was nearly off its hinges. As I made my way down through the dark the pungent smell of potions hit my nose, and I kept well away from my mother's stocks. The bottles were probably broken.

At the bottom in my mother's room I found Fa, lying half under a dead dremora, his eyes closed and a deep wound in his chest. I fell to my knees beside him and wept, casting through tears, sending the strongest healing spells I could into him over and over. They washed over his body, flickering into nothing.

I was too late.

I threw my arms around him and cried until my body hurt with it, until I thought I would lose my mind. The loss of him eclipsed everything else, for a moment: the daedra, the ruined city, the hundreds of people dead. It felt like much later before I could pull myself together and get to my feet. Fa wouldn't have wanted to be seen, not like this. Defeated on the floor, with his enemy still on top of him? He would have hated it. I tried to pull the dremora off his body, but the weight of it was enormous.

I needed help, I thought. I needed Darius.

On my way up the bridge outside I heard a clattering sound, so out of place in the empty ruin I thought my heart would stop. With the last little bit of my magicka, I cast a quick detection spell and for a moment two faint spots glowed purple on the level above me.

I should have known Skar like the back of my hand, but exhaustion and grief had drained me, and the thick smoke made everything feel unfamiliar. I was in one of the manors, I couldn't remember which one, but I followed where the spell had indicated survivors. There didn't seem to be anyone there, and then my light spell died and left me in deep blackness. There wasn't much I could do; I was Atronach-born and had no magicka left at all.

But my eyes adjusted to the dark, slowly, and it turned out not to be as hopeless as I thought. There was a torch around a corner ahead, burning in a wall brace, and once I'd pried it down I walked deeper into the manor, trying to find whoever was left.

Or whatever was left, I thought, and hoped it wasn't a daedra.

I was in a dining room when something growled and brushed against my ankle. I whirled and tried not to scream at the sight of a dremora pinned under a cabinet, arms reaching my direction. It hissed at me in hatred, bloody froth at its mouth as it lunged for me again. I didn't think; there wasn't time. I grabbed a heavy candlestick off the table and swung it at the dremora's head, and then again, and over and over as hard as I could until it died and I let out a shaky breath of relief.

But the dremora couldn't have been what the spell had detected, I thought. I hadn't gone far enough. I crept forward, torch in one hand and candlestick gripped in the other. More noises came from the room beyond, rustling sounds that seemed to come from inside a closet. I edged over, shaking with tension, and flung open the closet door, ready to swing the candlestick again.

A little boy blinked at the light of my torch and tried to burrow back into the clothes, hiding. "It's okay," I told him, which might have been the biggest lie of my life. "I won't hurt you, I'm a friend." He didn't look like he believed me. "We have to go," I said. "There might be more dremora."

He hesitated, but must have decided I wasn't as bad as the daedra. He climbed out of the closet, but once his feet were on the floor he didn't budge another step. I wondered how long he'd been in there. "We've got to get out of here," I said again, taking a few steps toward the door. He didn't make any move to follow. I thought about leaving him, briefly, and couldn't. "If I carry you," I said, "can you hold the torch?"

He nodded.

I handed him the torch and picked him up, settling him on my hip and cradling him with one arm. He was heavy and I was tired, but he held the torch up high, and we made our way back to the main area. The bridges were slick in some spots and sticky in others, so I dropped the candlestick and grasped at the rope guiderails, struggling to keep upright. Once we got down to the floor and had started heading back up the last bridge to the exit, he must have caught sight of the mass of dead bodies, men and mer and daedra in terrible heaps, because he dropped the torch, which sputtered and died, and he vomited weakly onto my chest. I cursed myself sharply for not telling him to close his eyes but I had hold of the rope and could make out starlight ahead of us, and one slow step at a time we made our way out into the night, gasping in the cleaner air.

Darius was walking our way, and when he spotted us, he broke into a run. I felt like I was going to collapse but he threw an arm around me and started walking me in the direction of the survivors' house, supporting most of my weight. The little boy buried his face in my neck miserably and trembled. "We have to go back," I managed, voice raw. "I need your help."

"Did you find your father?"

I nodded. "He's..." I couldn't say it. "There's a dremora on top of him, I can't move him. I don't want Mother to see."

He understood, I think. I waited outside when he took the little boy in to the rest of the survivors while I stared skyward, eyes open but barely seeing until Darius reemerged.

Darius was a warrior, strong and hardy, and with him taking most of the weight it wasn't too difficult to get the dremora off my father's body. Carefully, we picked up Fa and laid him out on the bed he'd shared with my mother, and on impulse, I tucked a blanket up over his chest to cover the horrible wound.

I smoothed his fine pale hair and wiped the little spots of blood away, and Darius picked up Fa's sword from the floor, wiped it clean, and handed it to me. I arranged it on my father's chest and folded his hands over the hilt, and though I recoiled at how cold he was and how leaden his limbs were, when I was done I kissed his forehead with all my love and whispered a prayer that he be happy, wherever his spirit had found a new home.

I thought at some point that I must run out of tears—that the human body could only cry so much before there was nothing left—but when I straightened and looked at my father lying there, knowing he was gone, _really_ gone, I started crying again, though my throat was so hoarse I could hardly make a sound. I felt Darius step close and put his arms around my shoulders, holding tightly, and we stood there together for a long time while I cried.


	5. Chapter 5

Eighteen people, counting the Dunmer runner at Vivec. Eighteen people had survived out of hundreds. The survivors were tucked away now, deep in the bowels of the fort. I didn't know if they felt safe behind such thick, well-guarded walls. I didn't.

It had been two days. Contrary to what I'd thought when we'd arrived at Ald'ruhn, there were still daedra around. Not the dremora, who had the brains to carry out orders, but the clannfear, the spider daedra, the hulking daedroths. The Legion had been going out in small parties, picking them off little by little. It wouldn't be safe to move the survivors until they were sure the daedra were gone, we were told, and so we stayed in the fort and waited.

There had been some talk, at first, of rebuilding Ald'ruhn, but it was a hope that died quickly. The people with money and influence had lived Under-Skar, and they were all dead. More details trickled in, and as the survivors told their stories a cohesive picture began to emerge. It had been evening when the daedra came, and most people had been at home. The gate had opened up inside the Fighters Guild, tearing it apart entirely, and the daedra had killed everyone inside. The Mages Guild had been next, and from there, the rest of the city. The people left were paupers, generally, along with a couple of men from the temple and a few lucky merchants. Most weren't even originally from Ald'ruhn, so there was little motivation for them to stay and struggle to rebuild.

Everyone wanted to go home.

The aftermath of battle wasn't something I'd ever thought about before. I didn't know about the dozens of little things that had to be decided: what to do with the dead, what to do with their possessions, where to send the orphaned when we didn't know if they had any family left.

There were too many bodies and too few people to help, so the Legion sent out a battlemage to cremate everyone who had fallen, citizens and daedra alike. Ald'ruhn was the seat of House Redoran, which was sure to be in turmoil, now. But it had been a rich city, and in the various manors and guild halls were tucked away chests of gold and treasure, which were dragged out and locked away in the fort. At first there was the rumor the money could be used to help the survivors. They'd all have to start over, get transport, find places to live, buy houses and re-start businesses, and none of that came cheaply. Ultimately the Legion commander decided to lock the money away until she received orders from Ebonheart about what to do with it.

It wasn't a popular decision.

In the absence of direct assistance the Legion was sending out survivors one at a time, escorted by two soldiers back to their homes to salvage whatever was left. This afternoon it was Mother's turn, but she didn't want to go. She asked Brennan and me to go in her place, and at first the pair of Legion soldiers who'd come to retrieve her resisted—they'd set up an emergency policy of one at a time, and wanted to stick to it—but Darius offered to go along as an extra sword, and they relented. The soldiers were getting stretched a little thin, I could tell, and I knew this wasn't work they enjoyed, but they liked Darius.

I wondered how he'd gotten involved with the Legion.

Under-Skar was still very dark, and as soon as we walked inside Brennan cast a strong light spell, illuminating the inside of the great shell so brightly that there were hardly any places left in shadow. It was cleaner, now, with all the bodies and blood burned away, but I'd never known it to be so empty and still. When the wind blew the door shut with a heavy thud that seemed to rattle the whole place we all jumped, and then jumped again when something clattered to the floor from the other side of the room.

I walked over towards it, ignoring Brennan's hand on my arm and the soldiers' agitation. It was the candlestick from the other night, rolling on the floor where it had landed. I straightened and held it up so the men could see. "It's just a candlestick," I explained, walking back to the group.

Brennan got a good look at it as we walked into my mother's shop and grimaced in disgust. "It's all bloody."

"I killed a dremora with it," I told him. I'd been right, my mother's stocks of potions were broken. Broken glass littered the floor. I was the only one still walking, I noticed, and turned around. Darius looked amused.

Brennan looked horrified. "It was mostly dead already," I explained. "A cabinet fell on it and when I walked by it touched my legs. It scared me so much all I could think to do was hit it until it stopped moving." He didn't look any less horrified, but Darius looked like he was trying not to laugh.

"Let's just keep on, shall we?" Brennan managed, and I couldn't help but roll my eyes. I loved Brennan more than life, truly, but he could be so dainty sometimes.

We were luckier than most; Mother's things were mostly intact. We packed up her gold and papers, and what clothes and jewelry hadn't burned. There were a few baby things we stuffed into a bag. The bed wasn't scorched, so they must have moved Fa before they… I felt myself start tearing up and clenched my teeth. _Just finish it, and stop being such a coward_, I berated myself. _He's dead. They moved him, and they burned him, and he is not coming back. _

Mother's ingredients hadn't been touched, and since most of them were lightweight and worth a fair bit of gold, I packed them carefully away. I'd put the candlestick down on a table so I could work, but as we were leaving it caught my eye and I felt an odd tug. I didn't want to leave it here, which was absurd. It was just a candlestick. Furthermore, it wasn't _my _candlestick, and I didn't want to be haunted by some dour Redoran ghost because I'd been stupid enough to steal from the dead.

I walked out, shaking my head. I had more than enough to deal with as it was, being ridiculous about a piece of table dressing wouldn't do me any good.

-oOo-

As it turns out, though, that wasn't the last time I saw that damned candlestick. I was sorting ingredients the next day when Darius plunked it down heavily on the table, nearly under my nose. "So," he began, "You killed a dremora." He looked pleased with himself, which was bound to be a bad sign.

"In the most ridiculous way possible, yes." I went back to my ingredients, but he was in my way. I tried to push the candlestick out of my workspace but his hand was on top of it, holding it in place.

He only looked at me. "Think you could do it again?"

I almost laughed. "Of course. Just drop a cabinet on every dremora in Oblivion, and when they're pinned down I'll finish them off." I tried to push the candlestick away again, but he caught my hands on it and held them.

When I looked up again his expression had gone serious. "You killed something. Do you think you could do it again?"

I swallowed. "Could I kill daedra again?"

"Not just daedra. If an enemy were attacking—daedra, beast or human—I want to know if you could kill it." His voice held a hint of challenge, and he watched me closely.

I swallowed a protest and gave the idea some thought. If I was being attacked? If Brennan or my mother or Darius were being attacked? "Yes," I answered.

"Good." He looked satisfied. "Let's go get you a weapon."

-oOo-

Darius walked me down to the armory, where he introduced me to an Imperial woman by the name of Raesa. She smiled a little as we approached. "So this is the accidental daedra-slayer?" I shot a dirty look at Darius, who didn't notice. She did though, and her smile widened. "Let's get you something you can do some damage with, shall we?"

We spent the rest of that afternoon experimenting with different weapons. Some of them were simply out of the question, like the two-handed axe more likely to kill me than any enemy, and the iron warhammer I could hardly even lift. Others were smaller and more manageable, but still felt clumsy in my hands. Every time I picked up a new weapon, Raesa would correct my grip and stance and have me take a number of swings at a practice dummy. It must have been very entertaining for Darius, who had stayed to watch and was reclining on a pile of training mats. He told me with every new weapon I tried that I was doing it wrong and called out advice, most of which contradicted what Raesa was trying to tell me.

After a while, I think she'd had enough. I'd lost my grip on a dagger and it had fallen, sliding over the stone floor. When I scrambled to get it Darius laughed, and Raesa whirled in impatience and flung open the armory door. "Apinia. Get out."

He looked affronted. "What?"

"I'm doing your ungrateful ass a favor. It's my day off, and your heckling is eating up my time. _Out_." She pointed at the open door.

"No," he said. "Just ignore me."

"I would, if you'd shut up."

Darius almost looked chastened at that, and fell quiet.

I walked back to the tables where weapons had been laid out, examining them. "What's next?" I asked. I hadn't been nearly strong enough to be effective with an axe, and the swords—even the short ones—made me feel wildly off-balance. Daggers had just felt silly. I couldn't imagine swinging one at a rampaging daedroth. I'd known when we started that I was going to have to work myself up from nothing but still, I'd hoped to find something that at least felt as though it had potential.

I turned around to find her grimacing. "Have you ever considered archery?"

"Am I that bad?" I had to laugh.

"You're pretty terrible. But everyone is terrible at first," she reassured me. "Usually they have time to be terrible because they've got a while to practice. They don't just pick up a weapon and go rushing off. But you're leaving soon, aren't you? So you don't have time."

There was a knock at the door, and Brennan poked his head inside. "There you are. I was hoping to find you here, and see about getting a weapon myself."

"I am _not_ starting over," Raesa warned.

He looked momentarily alarmed. "Starting…" He glanced to me, confused. "No. I don't think I'll take up much of your time."

Brennan walked over to one of the tables and picked up a one-handed steel axe. He gripped the handle and examined it, turning it over and looking at it from all angles, then gave a couple of quick practice slashes at the dummy. He was a little clumsy, but his hits were solid and he'd lunged in a way that made me suspect he had done it before. "This one, I think," he said quietly to no one in particular, running his thumb along the edge. He looked up at me, his eyes bleak. "There's no mercy in standing by while others suffer."

"Did you decide on the bow?" Darius asked, tapping my shoulder and pulling me out of my surprise.

"Maybe. I think so." I joined Raesa over at a table of bows. There seemed to be a lot of them, and none of them looked very… well, regulation. "Do you normally have all these in the armory?"

She shook her head. "Generally we just keep steel. But with people selling whatever they can we've tried to buy whatever we could to help them out. We've ended up with a lot of pieces we wouldn't otherwise have. Someone even brought in a daedric bow, though," she glanced at me a little skeptically, "I don't see Yambagorn letting go of that one easily."

"Money isn't an issue, if that's what you mean," Darius told her.

Raesa cocked an eyebrow. "That's exactly what I mean."

"I'll buy my own weapon," I said, a little irritated.

"If you're any good with the daedric bow, that's what you'll be using." I glanced up at him, and he smiled at my annoyance. "It's my neck you'll be guarding. If a better weapon means the difference between life and death, I'd rather spend the money and live."

Brennan walked up to my other side and rested a hand on my shoulder. "You should try the steel. It looks to be in good shape." It did look to be in good shape, as best as I could tell. I ran my fingers over it, touching the string lightly.

"Actually," said Raesa from the other side of the table, "I was thinking you might be better off with bonemold. It's lighter but a little more powerful, and the draw weight isn't quite as much as steel." I nodded and reached for the bonemold bow.

"You don't want to do that," Brennan said, too late.

My fingertips brushed the yellowish surface of the bow, just barely, and at the touch a wave of disgust washed over me. I felt like clotted grease was filling my mouth and nose. My skin crawled, and I snatched my hand back in horror.

Raesa watched the two of us, interested. "You okay?"

I nodded, but there was a bad taste in my mouth and I was a little shaken. "Yes. It just… it felt strange. And it surprised me." I looked over at Brennan, who looked at the bow and said nothing.

Raesa frowned. "Are you a mage? I didn't even think about that."

A mage? "I don't have any formal training."

"Doesn't matter. Did it make you feel bad when you touched it?" I nodded. She thought for a second, frowning at the weapons on the table. "It looks like you've got an aversion to it, but I've never heard of anyone with an aversion to _bonemold_ before. Usually it's the daedric stuff."

"That's an aversion?" I asked, feeling a little stupid. It had felt _vile_.

"Probably so." Raesa chewed at her bottom lip, thinking. "They're not terribly common, so I don't know for sure. And I don't know anyone at the Fort who would know. Interesting, though."

There was a knock at the door, and a young soldier poked his head in. "Knight Protector wants to see you, Darius," he said. Darius grumbled and followed him out, leaving me with Raesa and my brother.

By the time he returned I'd bought—with my own money, thank you—a silver bow, and followed Raesa's instructions as she taught me how to fire. "We've got orders," said Darius.

Raesa looked over, her eyebrows arched. "We as in the Legion or we as in you two?"

"Both." He looked over at me. "The Ald'ruhn refugees are being escorted to Balmora tomorrow morning, and from there by strider to Vivec. We're going with them as far as Balmora. Be ready for a long walk." He looked at my bow. "Is this what you settled on?"

"Yes."

"Can you use it?" he asked, looking so skeptical I wanted to hit him over the head with an arrow and remind him the entire thing was his idea.

Instead, I sighed. "Maybe if whatever I need to hit stands very still for a long time."

He looked as though he was trying not to laugh, but not trying very hard.


	6. Chapter 6

It was still about twenty minutes to sunset and the evening breeze was chilly. No violent oranges and reds tonight: the sky was a gentle, thin gold, and dusky purple crept in around the horizon. I watched the sky, and I watched Brennan but he didn't say anything, so I didn't press him and we just stood there in peace.

After a while, the lower tip of the sun began to skim the horizon, and I watched, feeling the dusk begin as much as seeing it. Peace settled over me, wrestling its way out of grief, uncurling from some tightly wound place in my chest. I ran my thumb along the end of my bow, wondering at the pleasant sensation of the silver. _Let this be a tool for Your will_, I prayed, _let me use it to do that which is just and good. Keep us safe._

"Alora," Brennan began, but I shook my head and he fell silent. _Not now_, I thought, _it's_ _time_. The sun drifted slowly down, and dusk deepened around us, drawing purples and grays across the sky.

At last, the sun dipped all the way below the horizon in a final glint of gold, and I let out a long breath. The hurt and shock of losing Ald'ruhn, and especially Fa, still throbbed painfully through me, but I felt better knowing I was going to be able to do something about it. "You were going to say something?"

He looked a little sheepish. "Sorry about that. Bad timing."

"It's probably hard to tell the difference between your sister watching the sunset and your sister engaging in monstrous daedric rituals," I told him. "Honest mistake." He mustered a smile and I shivered. Now that the sun was down it was getting cooler, quickly. "Do you mind if we go inside?"

Once we were tucked away in a corner of the dining hall, a hot cup of tea in front of each of us, I expected Brennan to talk. He didn't. He looked at his tea, at his spoon, at the other people in the room and at the ceiling. Anywhere but at me. I sipped my tea. "You're upset about something. Does it have anything to do with the bonemold?" He looked at me, startled. "I'm not a complete idiot, you know," I told him. "I have eyes. You've been in your own gloomy little world since I touched that vile bow."

He didn't say anything for a minute. "I don't really know where to begin," he admitted.

"How did you know I shouldn't touch it?"

His expression went more morose, if anything. "I've got an aversion to bonemold. Given that you're my twin sister, I thought it likely you'd have it as well."

I tried to remember what I'd read about material affinities, but it was a long time ago. "Why?"

"You know a bit about affinities?" he asked. I nodded. "Aversions are a bit less common," he said, "and there are a number of factors that cause them. Mostly, it boils down to heritage, displacement, and magical sensitivity. Birthsigns sometimes play a part, as well. But since we have all those factors in common, it seemed likely we'd have the aversion in common as well."

I thought about that for a while. It didn't explain why he'd been so troubled-looking. "What do you mean by displacement?"

"It's the condition of living in an area or coming into contact with materials that are foreign to one's area of heritage. Where one's family is from." He stirred his tea idly.

That seemed reasonable enough. "And Mother's from Cyrodiil, and Fa's from Skyrim, so bonemold would be a foreign material? Is that it?" But wasn't there a kind of trollbone armor that Nordic smiths made? I didn't know how that would be different from bonemold, or if it would still be foreign. I puzzled it over, trying to figure it out.

The troubled look was back on Brennan's face, which made a prickle of apprehension creep up from beneath my breastbone. When he tried to smile, it couldn't have looked more false. "It's just complicated. We have a common aversion, that's all. Stick to metals and avoid organic weapons and you should be fine."

He hadn't answered, and that as much as anything set off the alarm bells in my head. "What aren't you telling me?" I asked.

His mouth set into an unhappy line. I thought for a moment he might lie, might try to placate me like one of his flock, but after a moment he asked instead, "Are you sure you want to know?" He grimaced at me. "It's not an easy thing to hear."

"Of course I want to know. What's going on?" My mouth was dry. "If there's something wrong—"

"No," he said, and I wondered if it was a lie. He looked at me, considering, for what felt like a maddeningly long time. "Very well, then." His knuckles were getting whitish. "Six years ago I was with a couple of elder priests investigating a village that had had trouble with bandits. Their lay priest had been injured and we were there to fill in, to try to provide some buffer against violence for the rest of the villagers. One evening there was an attack, and my superior—who'd been one of the Knights and was trained in combat—shouted at me to bring his bow. It was bonemold. Only I hadn't just touched it a little like you, I'd tried to grab hold of it and run. The aversion was so powerful, so overwhelming, that I fell to the ground and lost consciousness. When I came to, my superior was gravely injured, and one of the villagers was dead."

He stopped, pushed away from the table, and walked to the other end of the room. When he came back, he had a couple of cups and a bottle of sujamma. He poured himself a full cup, drank it all in three deep gulps, then filled his cup again. He poured a cup and pushed it in front of me, next to my tea. I didn't touch it.

He continued, as though he'd never stopped. "I didn't know what had happened. I'd never heard about anything like it before and none of the other priests knew what had happened. It wasn't until we got back to Ebonheart Lal told me what it was." He took another drink.

"I don't understand," I told him.

"I know. The aversion itself isn't… it isn't the problem. But among other things, Lal told me an aversion to bonemold would be impossible for the son of a Nord. Especially a Skyrim-born Nord." At my silence, Brennan pushed on. "She told me that for an aversion like that, that would affect me to such a degree, my parents were almost certainly Bretons, both of them. Or Altmer, maybe, but it would be impossible to have that aversion and be the son of a Nord. And so it follows that if that's so, then Fa is not our father. Which we should have known, shouldn't we? But it was hard to hear. And I didn't tell you, I didn't tell _anyone_, for six years. And then you had to touch that Gods-cursed bow."

I felt my pulse pound in my ears. "She had to be lying," I protested. "That's not—"

"Nords don't get aversions," he interrupted. "Even half-Nord children. They don't have the magical sensitivity. I didn't want to tell you," he muttered. "It's not a nice thing to know. I'm sorry."

I felt like I'd been physically struck. I wanted to argue, to spell out all the reasons why that couldn't make any sense. But it did, I realized, my stomach dropping the more I thought about it. Memories flickered through my mind, of my big, brawny uncles disappointed in Brennan's quiet nature and slight build, of how it never seemed to be questioned that we took our mother's name and not our Fa's. And Brennan wouldn't lie, especially not about something like this. The misery on his face spoke of the truth plainly enough. "Thank you for telling me," I managed, only a little strangled. I was numb, suddenly, with shock and a fresh wave of grief. I scanned Brennan's face looking for any sign of Fa, any hint of resemblance. There was none. There had never been any, I thought. I'd seen what I expected to see, no more, all my life. "Tomorrow's going to be a long day. Don't drink too much," I warned him.

And I left my brother alone.

-oOo-

The next morning dawned fair and cool, and the group of us made good time on the walk to Balmora. Several people had stopped off at Caldera to use the guild guides, but Mother was as leery as Darius about them, particularly with the baby, and so she and Brennan walked with us to Balmora.

I'd thought she'd be carrying the baby, but early on she'd tossed his sling around me and nestled him in it. I was stronger than she was, she insisted, so I had my bow on my back and the baby on my chest. _Cedric_, I told myself, _his name is Cedric, not 'the baby.' _Most of the day Darius walked with the Legion soldiers, talking all the while; I carried Cedric, who mostly slept, and Brennan tried without success to convince Mother to stay in Morrowind.

"It's settled, Brennan," Mother said at last, her pretty brows drawn together in a frown. "You and Alora have grown up and gone. With Fa gone, there's no reason for me to stay. I'm going home."

Brennan shook his head, impatient and worried. "The Emperor was assassinated there, Mother. The daedra are supposed to be even worse in Cyrodiil. Why go there when it's the center of all the trouble?"

"Because it's my home_,_" she said again, adamantly. "And at least in Cyrodiil, the cities have walls."

"Walls didn't help Kvatch," Darius pointed out, voice flat.

Mother looked at him, a sober expression on her face. "Even so. I'm tired, and all I want is to return home. I'm from Skingrad, you know," she said. "I spent a good deal of time in Kvatch growing up. Don't think the loss of it means so little to me."

On my chest Cedric stirred, and I looked down. His eyes blinked open sleepily, palest blue, and his little forehead wrinkled as he stretched as much as the sling would allow. He wasn't a noisy baby. Bigger and heavier than I would have expected, but…

A thought occurred to me and I looked at him, really looked for the first time, trying to see him as a person and not just a wrapped bundle. The fluff of hair on his head was nearly white, and his skin was milky pale. His fuzzy white eyebrows were thick. He looked like Fa, I realized, and though the thought was bittersweet it made me smile.

After we reached Balmora, I kissed Mother and Cedric goodbye and got them settled in the silt strider. Brennan whispered "I'm sorry" when he hugged me farewell, but I shook my head and tried to smile. "No. Don't be," I said firmly. "I'll write you soon."

The few other refugees and their Legion escort got in the strider and they took off, making their way east, and Darius and I walked into the town proper. He led the way, taking us over a bridge and in front of a row of nondescript houses, and there he hesitated.

"I'm going to need you to wait outside," he said, finally.

"Why?" I asked. Not that I was bothered by being in Balmora alone, but how was I supposed to help if I had to wait outside like an ill-trained pet?

"Look," he began, grimacing. "If it were just me, you'd be in there. But this is bigger than me." He looked around. "I should be about half an hour. The shops are on the other side of the river if you want to go have a look. I'll meet up with you when I'm done."

With that, apparently, I was dismissed. I made my way back across the river to restock our supplies and still had plenty of time to kill, so I bought a few books and took them down to the side of the river. I sat and read until Darius found me and took a seat at my side, dangling his feet over the side of the structured bank.

"Did you find what you were looking for?" I asked, still a little bemused at having been told to scat.

"No." He sighed and looked downriver. "I don't have any more information than I did before we came. I guess the only thing for it is to get to Khuul."

I frowned. "Why Khuul? Aren't the daedra the threat of highest priority?"

"They are," he admitted. "But we don't have any leads. I don't know where to start looking. And I've been ordered to carry on as normal for now. The Emperor's assassination is being looked into, and I'm not to investigate or draw any more attention to the matter. Which leaves Khuul."

"You've been ordered?" The thought was vaguely absurd. Darius, taking orders? From whom?

"Yes. So we'll stay the night here. We'll walk to Hla Oad in the morning. I think there's a boat there that'll run to Gnisis, and then Khuul."

I thought a moment. "It would be faster to take the strider to Seyda Neen. Or even to walk, if there's not a strider back yet. From there it'll run straight to Gnisis and up to Khuul. It ought to save us at least half a day."

He got to his feet. "Sounds good. I knew I brought you along for a reason."

I figured we'd rest at one of the establishments on the other side of the river, but he led me around to another nondescript little house, produced a key, and opened the door. It was small and dim, and I accidentally kicked over a skooma pipe—which Darius hurriedly assured me wasn't his—but the little one-room house was secure, at least. There was a time we'd have had to rest in shifts, but things must have changed, because he didn't mention it. There was only the one bed and hardly any floor space to speak of so we both lay down together without discussion, side by side, and though it was cramped I fell asleep within minutes.

I dreamed of a mountain, covered in snow, sinking into the sea.


	7. Chapter 7

"I don't understand that one part, though," he said, frowning. We were kneeling in an ashlander's yurt, bent over the map he'd drawn in the dust of the floor.

"No one seems to know what to make of that one phrase, but every other part is important, apparently." He grimaced. "I don't want to go in fumbling around blind and end up dead. Or worse." I'd long since lost count of how many times had he been injured already in the course of his quest, how many times he'd come within moments of dying. I couldn't blame him for being so cautious.

I looked down at the map, thinking. _The dream is the door, and the star is the key. _We already knew about the star, but the dream… no one seemed to have a good explanation. I murmured it to myself. _The dream is the door. The dream is the door, and the star is the key. The dream is the door, and the star is the key. The dream…_

"It's you," I told him.

He stared at me.

"It's the dream of your return, I think. The hope that you would come back someday and set things right. The dream is the door. You're the dream. You're the door." I looked up, surprised at how close we'd become. His face was only inches away, and I could see the firelight reflecting in his dark eyes. "Whatever it is that waits for you," I managed, "I don't think you're being led into danger."

He kept staring for a moment, then glanced down at the map. When he looked up again, he leaned in close. One hand came up to ghost over the side of my face, over my lips. He closed the distance, and for the barest moment, I felt his lips brush mine and my eyes fluttered closed and then the flap of the yurt was thrown open, and we jumped apart like guilty children.

I jerked awake.

The silt strider swayed as it headed north, bearing us to Khuul. I rubbed at my eyes and sat up, trying to shake off the dream. Darius was watching me, a half-smile on his face, and I could feel heat creep into my cheeks as though he could discern the content of my dreams. It had been years since that almost-kiss. It was sort of pitiful that it still showed up in my dreams from time to time. I cleared my throat, retrieving the book that had slid off my lap. "How much longer?"

"About half an hour until we reach Khuul. You all right?"

"Of course," I said. I smoothed the pages of my book and tried to read, but found I couldn't concentrate.

-oOo-

Khuul had been devastated. There hadn't been much to begin with, but now the little village was even worse off. Half the townspeople had been killed. Most of the dock looked like it had been smashed, and the weathered wooden planks were broken and stuck up at forbidding angles. When we approached, a few people peered out of the remains of their huts, and a tall Dunmer walked up to Darius as we got off the strider. "Hail, Nerevarine," he called in a surprisingly deep voice, raising a hand in greeting.

"Hail, Endris Dilmyn. I wish I came under better circumstances," Darius told him. "I hope you are well?" His face was a pleasant blank. I didn't see this side of him often: Darius the diplomat. He'd come a long way from the impatient young man he'd once been, complaining about the difficulties of navigating Dunmer culture and tradition.

Endris frowned, stopping in front of us and crossing his arms over his chest. "I am, though the same cannot be said for Khuul. Why have you come?"

"In hopes of finding more about who did this, and in hopes of bringing them to justice," Darius answered, almost as formal as I'd ever heard him. His expression gave away nothing.

Endris kept frowning. "It is no secret who is responsible for this. Skaaldi from Solstheim came by boat and attacked us in the night. Half the village was dead before we could rally against them, and they left as suddenly as they came."

Darius was quiet, thinking. "How did you know they were Skaal?" I asked. The wind off the sea was cold, and I wished I'd thought to buy a heavier robe.

"Who else could they have been? They came in a light ship from the northwest and wore bear armor. It must have been the Skaal."

His tone was dismissive, but I had my doubts. An attack from Skyrim or the mainland wasn't out of the question, either. I didn't want to appear disrespectful, though, so I asked, "Were there any casualties among the Skaal?"

"None that we saw," Endris said. "The attack was so quick and quiet we had no time to rally a counterattack. The Skaaldi struck, and then they left."

"Quiet? They didn't shout anything? Didn't say anything at all?" Darius pressed. Endris shook his head, and I frowned. My uncles had always roared going into a fight, to terrify their enemies. I wondered why these Nords would be so quiet. They couldn't have been making an attempt at stealth, not judging from the sheer amount of bashed-in wood around. You didn't come in quietly to take everyone by surprise and then start smashing down doors.

"Did they have any distinctive markings, or carry any unusual weapons?" I asked. "There must be something about them that could give us a better idea of where they came from, or why they were here."

He looked at me, impatient. "Is this your mouthpiece, Nerevarine?" he asked, disapproval making his severe features even more forbidding. "Can you not conduct your investigation on your own power?"

"She's my advisor, Endris," Darius responded, going a hair more disapproving himself. "And you may answer to her as you would answer to me."

I blinked in surprise before I could catch myself and keep my expression neutral.

Finally Endris shook his head, displeased. "There was nothing unusual about them that we could see. Some of them had painted faces, but there was no unifying mark. They all wielded axes. They came to the dock, attacked, and left by boat as quickly as they had come."

"Was there any pattern to the kills? Did they attack the wealthiest? The oldest? The ones just closest to the dock?" Darius asked. The only people I saw in Khuul were Dunmer, watching us curiously, but I hadn't thought it was a strictly Dunmer town. Why would they attack so brutally and still leave half the village alive? It didn't make sense. _Unless they wanted witnesses_, I thought, but didn't know what to make of it.

"No pattern we could discern," Endris replied. "If you want more answers, I would suggest you go to Solstheim and ask the Skaal themselves."

"We intend to," Darius said. Endris' black eyebrows shot up, and I felt mine rise as well. We were going to Solstheim? "Good day, Endris Dilmyn. We will meet again under better circumstances," Darius finished.

"I hope so," said the Dunmer. "Good luck, Nerevarine."

Darius took my elbow and walked me briefly around the town. I tried to get a sense of what had done the damage, but it just looked like damage to me. It didn't seem like there'd been anything in Khuul worth taking, or anyone of note to take hostage. But what could have been the objective in terrorizing an unarmed village of poor Dunmer? There wasn't any honor in that.

We walked down to the docks, where we found an unhappy-looking Khajiit waiting. We bought passage to Solstheim and boarded the little ship, settling in for the long trip north, and as we pushed off into the choppy sea I turned the problem over in my mind trying to figure it out, but I couldn't.

-oOo-

The little ship scudded across the waves, fighting the northern wind that pushed at it. Darius and I stayed down in the cabin, playing cards. My hands hadn't been very good, but I was still almost breaking even, and it kept me from sitting alone and dwelling on the destruction of Ald'ruhn or the loss of Fa. The temperature kept dropping inside the ship until our fingers were stiff and clumsy with cold. When the little ship listed and shuddered our piles of coins fell over with a clink and rattle, getting mixed. I couldn't remember how much was mine and how much was his, and I grimaced a little at the prospect of counting it up and trying to figure out how to split it.

"This is hopeless," Darius complained, pushing the coins back into the space between us. "It's too cold to think. I hate Solstheim."

Our arrival at Fort Frostmoth that evening was quiet. Snow fell in wet flakes that clung to my hair and crept down my neck as we hurried inside, eager to get close to a fire. Darius shook snow off his robe once the door closed behind us. "They've improved the place a bit since I was here last," he remarked. "This used to be a miserable little rock on the coast of a frozen nowhere."

It still looked like a miserable little rock on the coast of a frozen nowhere to me. I wondered what it must have looked like before the improvements. Darius negotiated quickly for some lodging and asked to speak to the Captain.

We stood near a brazier to await her convenience, warming our chilled fingers and looking around. There didn't seem to be many people here. It didn't have the same sort of atmosphere as Buckmoth, either. The soldiers there seemed to think of it as home, and for a fort it felt comfortable and lived-in. Frostmoth felt grayer, somehow, more dismal.

After a few minutes, a soldier appeared to guide us to the Captain's office, and a middle-aged Nord woman greeted us briskly and asked us to sit.

"I'm sorry for the hour, Captain, but we couldn't arrive any sooner," Darius began. "We've just come from Khuul. I don't know if you've heard reports of the situation there." The Captain nodded, and Darius continued. "They're saying it's Skaaldi who attacked them, that they came from Solstheim. Have you heard anything about this?"

"Not much." The Captain grimaced a little, making little lines appear around her mouth. "We got a report in that there'd been some trouble up at Thirsk about a week ago. A boat came up the river and the hall there was attacked. Two casualties, and not many answers. You're investigating this, then?"

"Yes," answered Darius.

"Good," the Captain said. "I don't have the manpower to launch an investigation myself, but I'll provide whatever reasonable aid I can. What are your plans?"

I looked at Darius. I was curious about what he had in mind, as well. He hadn't discussed it on the ship. He leaned back in his chair and crossed his arms. "It depends on the weather conditions. If it's clear weather, we'll hike upriver and pay a visit to Thirsk. Otherwise we'll wait. I'm not sanguine about wandering around Solstheim in a blizzard."

Hiking up the river through the snow to go visit a group of potentially angry Nords made me wish for home, suddenly. For the temple, and warm sea air. _You volunteered_, I reminded myself. _You knew this wouldn't be a stroll through the meadow._

The Captain nodded. "See to it you're properly outfitted, then. If you leave by sunrise you ought to be able to get to Thirsk by nightfall. I'd appreciate knowing anything you discover in your investigation."

"We'll certainly let you know. Thank you, Captain."

We were dismissed, and made our way to the dining hall, where we ate hot, thin soup with coarse bread before we turned in for the night.

I had the feeling tomorrow would be interesting.

-oOo-

Interesting hadn't been quite the right word.

Difficult, perhaps, or unpleasant, or even bloody fetching awful.

I had seen snow before, a couple of times. A few flakes here, a few flakes there, the little bit we'd seen the night before in the little walk between the dock and Frostmoth. I didn't know when we set out that by the time the day was over, I would see more snow than I ever wanted to see for the rest of my life.

I'd seen the little drifts of snow when we'd first approached Frostmoth, but further away from the coast the snow already on the ground was deeper, and it only got worse when it started falling from the sky again. The wind came out of the north, directly into our faces, which were wrapped so that only our eyes were uncovered. Even so, the cold froze our eyelashes and chapped raw the little bits of skin still exposed. The monotony of the landscape had a numbing effect; after a while I'd stopped being awed by the crystalline whiteness of the scenery and just plodded on behind Darius. What was there to look at, really? Over on my left were hills, covered in snow. Before us were more hills, covered in snow, and on my right was the gray, icy river and beyond that, more hills, also covered in snow.

With so little indication of progress, it was easy to lose track of time. We walked for hours and the landscape hardly changed, never gave us any sign of how far we'd come. We'd been following a path that wound more or less north, but after we realized the snow was obscuring it, we gave up on the path altogether and walked as close to the river as we could, trying not to slip on the frozen patches of mud along the bank or attract the attention of the horkers we came across.

Sometime in the afternoon the snow stopped and the sky cleared, which made things a bit less miserable. But we weren't making progress like we'd expected, having been slowed down by the weather, and we were only about two-thirds of the way to the village by the time it started getting dark.

Since we hadn't anticipated taking so long, we hadn't packed a tent, and Darius didn't know of any caves we could shelter in. There wasn't really anything for it, tired as we were. I cast illumination spells as we made our way through the snow until the moons rose, and we kept hiking.

Wolves howled in the distance as we came to the place where the river widened, and before long we stood on the shore of the lake. A thin crust of ice covered parts of it, but it didn't look as though it would hold the weight of two people. I could see the lights of Thirsk, finally, perhaps half a mile off, but they were on the other side of the river, and I could see no way to get across.

Darius stopped and looked around at the lake, at the surrounding area, and at the river. Finally, he shook his head and declared, "Nnn ahgn oof. Mrr onna affa roth af umm oin."

"What?" I asked, but because of the wrap over my mouth, it came out as "Maa?"

Darius jerked the wrap from his face impatiently. "I said, it's no use, we're going to have to cross the river at some point." I pulled down my own wrap and looked at it, listening with half an ear to the sound of the wolves howling some way off. In the darkness, the river was a swift black current streaked with foam, peppered with floating chunks of ice. "How do people usually get across?" I asked.

Darius shook his head, his breath making a hazy white wreath around his face. "It's not usually this high. It's probably how they got a boat in here in the first place. But it makes it a problem for us." He looked around the forbidding landscape. "We can't stay still, we'll freeze. We've got to get across somehow."

I was colder than I'd ever been in my life, and very tired. I knew just from looking at the river that it would be suicide to try to swim across. I had a mental image, just for a moment, of Darius and myself being swept downstream by the icy current as limply as dolls, sinking into the dark water, and shuddered. "What about the other side of the lake?" I wrapped my arms around myself, trying to stay warm. "Is there a crossing up there?"

"Nothing close. There's a bridge at the northern tip of the island, but it'd be another day's walk, then another day's walk back south after we crossed. It's no good." He looked out at the landscape. The wolves had stopped howling. I didn't know if that was a good sign or a bad one. He turned back to me. "Do you know any water-walking spells?"

I shook my head. "No," I answered, "I was never good with… wait." Of course, I thought, and knelt in the snow, rummaging through my pack. I knew I'd packed them, they had to be in here somewhere. I hoped they hadn't frozen, otherwise I didn't know what we would do.

"What are you doing?"

"I bought some levitation potions in Tel Mora. We can levitate across the river." I found them and held them up.

He took one, looking at it skeptically. "Are you sure this will work?" he asked. "If we take these, how long will we levitate for?"

"Thirty seconds," I replied, putting my pack back in order. He looked over at the river, trying to gauge how long it would take us to float over, and seemed satisfied. He seemed a bit less satisfied when I amended, "Or fifteen. I can't remember." Tel Mora seemed like years ago instead of just last month.

"Let's hope it's thirty," said Darius, shaking his head. "You ready?"

I got to my feet, holding my potion. "Yes."

"Let's do it, then." We broke the seals of our potions, and he clinked his bottle against mine. "Good luck," he said, looking rueful. "I hope to the Gods we don't need it."

We drank them together, and I started drifting upwards about a second before he did. When we got oriented we directed ourselves eastward, toward Thirsk. The gray river churned just inches beneath our feet, frigid and forbidding. Walking on air was a disorienting feeling and an even more disorienting sight, so I tried not to look down. I floated a little higher than he did, and a sudden gust of wind pushed me a few feet southward, dangling me over the deepest part of the river, eating up a few precious seconds as I struggled to get under control again. I felt Darius' hand grab onto the furs at my shoulder and he pulled me back down, keeping me from drifting away.

It _had_ been the thirty-second potion after all, and I cheered inwardly as my feet touched dry ground on the other side of the river. Once we were both over and safe we took a minute to rest, leaning over and catching our breath.

He looked over at me. "Do you have any idea what time it is?"

I didn't, but I pushed back my hood and looked up at the night sky. What was it, the second week of Frostfall? The days were starting to run together. But I was able to pick out the shape of the Tower, and down low on the horizon, the upper curve of the Atronach. And the position of the moons… "It's almost midnight," I answered finally, surprised. It had been dark for what felt like ages. I'd thought it was closer to three in the morning.

"Good," Darius replied, his voice cracking a little with fatigue and relief. "That means they'll still be up when we get there. I don't think I've ever needed a hot drink more in my life."

-oOo-

An hour later I was sitting between two enormous Nords, drinking from a flagon as big as my head. We'd staggered in half-frozen and exhausted, and as soon as the mistress of the hall recognized Darius we'd been ordered to sit down and drink. I hadn't argued. Darius had, briefly—we were on a mission, after all—but the people of Thirsk were already fairly deep in their cups, and he was told it wouldn't be fit to discuss business with everyone in such a state.

I was almost to the bottom of the flagon and the alcohol had gone straight to my head. We'd eaten a quick breakfast early in the morning before we left Frostmoth, but conditions had been so miserable we hadn't stopped for another meal. By my flagon there was a deep bowl brimming with hot stew, but though it smelled delicious the prospect of chewing and swallowing seemed an act of heroic endurance I didn't feel equal to just then. I wanted, very much, to rest my head on the table and close my eyes.

Darius was better off than I was. He'd scarcely touched his mead, and then only after eating a bowl of stew and a great chunk of dark brown bread. He sat across the table from me talking with the Nord woman, our hostess whose name I couldn't remember. Olfeigr? I had the feeling I was being horribly rude. Darius was catching up with Olfeigr, and the two big fellows on either side of me spoke to each other as though I wasn't there between them at all. I realized, foggily, that I was beginning to slip under the table, in tiny, gradual increments. _A glacier_, I thought fuzzily, _I have turned into a glacier. _

Olfeigr eyed me, smiling, and nudged the Nerevarine's shoulder. _Darius_, I reminded myself. _His name is Darius._ "I think your girl needs a rest," she told him, and he looked over.

I thought about telling her that I wasn't his girl, but I was too tired. "Why don't you go upstairs and find a bed?" he suggested. "Otherwise you'll be under the table before you know it. And we still have to walk back to Fort Frostmoth, remember."

I groaned.

"Are you going to eat that?" he asked, indicating my bowl of stew.

I shook my head and pushed it in his direction, then tried to get up. Even without all the heavy furs I still felt like I was lumbering more than walking. Olfeigr rose and steered me toward a room, and I only stripped off as much as I could stand before I crawled beneath the furs and let sleep take me.


	8. Chapter 8

By the time I ventured back downstairs the next morning, Darius was already at work. Beside him was a heavily-armored Nord, no surprise, and when he saw me approaching he waved me over. "This is Brynjolfr, Thirsk's blacksmith. He says that Thirsk was attacked by a group of Dunmer."

I had been reaching for a cup, but froze mid-motion. "Dunmer? Are you sure?" I asked, before I could even think.

Fortunately, Brynjolfr seemed amused instead of irritated. "About so tall, pointed ears, gray skin. Looked like Dunmer to me."

I let out a slow breath, thinking quickly. Endris hadn't mentioned anything about retaliation for the attack on Khuul. What were the odds that Khuul had resources enough to mount a counterstrike, anyway? In Solstheim, no less? But to target Thirsk… I thought about the river, how powerful and fast the current had been. It couldn't have been easy for a boat to fight its way upstream in such conditions. "Did they come from the north? Across the lake?" I asked. "Is that bridge up north even high enough for a ship to get under?"

"They did," Brynjolfr confirmed, nodding. "Came around early evening. The bridge isn't all that high, but it was a small ship. Plain. No clan markings or anything of the like we could make out."

My thoughts raced as I tried to puzzle though the news, running a fingernail along the grain of the wooden table. "Can you tell us about the attack? Describe how they advanced, who they targeted? Do you have any idea of what they were after?" It occurred to me that for a settlement that had just been attacked, Thirsk didn't seem agitated in the least. Everyone was armed, but no one seemed jumpy or troubled. I didn't know what to make of it.

Brynjolfr considered for a moment. "It was early evening, like I said. They seemed to be having trouble with their ship. The wind was fierce; it may have been pushing them on too fast. Dunmer in light armor—about ten, maybe eleven—jumped onto the bank as soon as they hit ground, pulled out swords, and started running in the direction of the hall. We didn't figure that for a gesture of friendship, so we were ready for them when they got here." He stopped and took a long drink.

"They were all Dunmer? How do you know?" Darius asked, leaning forward and resting on his elbows.

"Not a one of them wore a hood or helm," Brynjolfr answered. "We got a good look at them. All Dunmer."

I thought a moment. "Did they just use swords or were they casting spells as well?"

Brynjolfr shook his head. "No spells. They were quiet as ghosts, to a mer. Quieter, maybe." He gave a short laugh. "I kept expecting them to start shouting for their ancestors to save them but none of them made a sound." I felt a strange heaviness settle in my chest, a thick feeling of foreboding. First Khuul attacked by silent Nords, and now Thirsk attacked by silent Dunmer.

"Could you describe what they looked like, exactly? Their armor, their ages… any distinguishing marks?" I asked finally.

"I can do you one better," he announced, slapping the table and getting to his feet. "I can show you the bodies."

-oOo-

The Captain at Fort Frostmoth hadn't mentioned that the casualties from the attack on Thirsk had all been on the Dunmer side, but then, I didn't know if she knew. It explained, a bit, why the people at Thirsk didn't seem as agitated as the people at Khuul. Brynjolfr led Darius and me out to a hut a short distance away from the main hall. As we crunched through the snow, squinting at the glare, he pointed out where the ship had landed and the path the Dunmer had run on their attack.

There were two bodies in the hut, sprawled on the ground in the drifting snow: young mer, lean and wiry. The hut wasn't enclosed so they'd been exposed to the elements, and because of the temperature they were frozen solid. Their skin had blackened, from cold or pooled blood or something else, I didn't know. I knelt in the snow beside them to get a better look.

Gingerly, I reached out to the nearest one, placing my ungloved hands on his head and trying to turn him so that I could see his face, but he was so stiff I couldn't move him. I moved around him instead, casting a weak illumination spell and filling the inside of the hut with white light. The mer's eyes were almost closed, but from what I could see of them they looked as though they'd been clear and healthy. His skin, now mottled and dark, looked like it had been normal before. A small scar over his eye, but nothing odd. There was nothing unusual about his face, nothing to mark him as from a particular place or of a particular people. His armor was nondescript leather. I opened up the front of his cuirass, looking for anything that would tell me who he was—letters, reminders of family—but there was nothing. No money or potions. No scrolls.

He looked even leaner without his armor; I could count most of his ribs. I couldn't tell if he'd just reached a gangly, scrawny phase of growth or if he'd been malnourished. I fastened up his cuirass, murmuring a quiet apology in case his spirit was still lingering. He'd been little more than a boy, and though I knew he'd been attacking innocent people, I felt a tug of bewildered sympathy. Dying so young, and far from home. And for what cause?

I could see the blow that had killed him, an axe chop to the base of his neck. I pulled off the gauntlet from his right hand. He wore no rings, no jewelry whatsoever. His nails were grimy and broken, and he had a couple of faint calluses on the inside of his first two fingers. I wondered if he'd been left-handed but when I tugged off his other gauntlet the calluses there were much the same. I frowned, thinking. They weren't sword calluses; they weren't in the right places. There was a thin raised scar that ran around his right wrist, which caught my attention, but I didn't know what to make of it.

I examined the other body and the results were much the same: old leather armor, no jewelry or money, and no identifying marks. He looked to be just as young, and had the same faint calluses on both hands, and the same raised scar on his wrist. His eyes were fully closed, but his mouth hung open a little. From what I could see his teeth were normal, but… I looked closer.

He didn't have a tongue. Pity and revulsion warred in me, and I couldn't help but think _who _are _you_?

I sat back on my heels, considering, then moved back over to the first body. His mouth was frozen and wouldn't open, so I held a low-level fire spell in my palm over his frozen mouth, feeling it thaw and his jaw begin to go slack. Carefully, I pushed his mouth open, looking inside.

"What are you doing?" Darius asked, frowning.

This one didn't have a tongue either. There looked to be a scar near the back of his mouth where the cut had healed, but it wasn't old. "Their tongues have been cut out," I said, moving aside so he could see. He peered at the dead mer's mouth, grimacing.

Brynjolfr scowled, confusion and defensiveness on his broad features. "No one of Thirsk did that."

"I didn't think they would have," I replied. "And the wounds don't look fresh. Someone didn't want them talking." An idea was beginning to form, dimly. I looked again at the scars on their wrists. Could a bracer have done this? And their youth, their thinness… you wouldn't cut the tongues out of valuable soldiers, or anyone you expected to report back. These young men couldn't have been trained to the sword, and hadn't developed the muscles to even swing one with any sort of power. Who had sent them here? They had to have known these boys couldn't take out Thirsk.

"They're not soldiers, or warriors," I said, and Darius and Brynjolfr bent low to see what I was pointing at. "Look at the lack of muscle. They're thin. Maybe not even fully grown. You'd said that it wasn't much of a fight. I don't think it was supposed to be. They don't have tongues, so no one expected them to kill the people at Thirsk and report back." I rocked back on my heels. "If I had to guess, I would say they were slaves," I said finally.

Darius blanched, looking disgusted. "Any idea who sent them here?"

"No. But whoever it was, I think they sent them here to die." For what purpose, I couldn't guess exactly. To rile the Nords into action, perhaps? To start a war? I couldn't think of any alternatives.

Darius shivered suddenly, looking troubled. "We'll find who did this."

I nodded, but I had my doubts.

-oOo-

Back inside the hall Darius and I sat at a table, sipping at mead. It wasn't all that strong, I realized, and felt a little embarrassment at how easily I'd let it get to me the night before. "Are we heading back to Frostmoth in the morning?" I asked.

He nodded. "When we get back to Vvardenfell I want to go to Ald Velothi, see if there's anyone there who can give us more information. Then we'll go have another chat with Vivec."

We passed the rest of the day in the hall. I wrote letters to Brennan and Fena, and though I didn't know where to send it yet, I wrote one to my mother as well. Darius played cards with a couple of women in the hall, all of them flirting back and forth as they played. Once when he caught me watching, he winked, and I went back to writing my letter, smiling and shaking my head.

When it was time I went outside to watch the sunset, feeling somber. I thought of the two young Dunmer lying dead in the snow, less than a hundred paces away. I wondered if my mother had reached Cyrodiil yet, though I knew it was probably too soon. I thought of Cedric, who was Fa's son, I was fairly certain, but who would never know him. It didn't seem fair that I'd had so much time with Fa while Cedric would grow up without a single memory of him. And I thought of Brennan, who'd kept his secret for six years. It must have weighed on him.

But it didn't do to dwell on such things, I supposed. There was too much to be done. I hoped Vivec had more information when we returned to his city. Someone had killed innocent people at Khuul, had sent the young Dunmer to die at Thirsk. But there seemed to be so little to go on.

The future stretched out, dark and uncertain. I didn't know what we were supposed to do without an Emperor. I had no faith in the provinces to remain united without a common leader, and if they began to divide there would be open war. And the daedra? If Kvatch and Ald'ruhn had been destroyed, it seemed likely more cities would follow. What could we do to stop them?

The vast blankness of the snow-shrouded countryside seemed very still to me, and I whispered mindless prayers that disappeared in a haze of frost into the twilight.

There was no answer, of course.


	9. Chapter 9

Before we left, Darius got assurances from the people of Thirsk that they didn't intend to mount any attacks on settlements of Dunmer—they didn't even know who to retaliate against, so it wasn't hard for them to forego seeking revenge—and we set off with one of the young guards. When we reached the river, he cast a series of strong frost spells without hesitation, forming a bridge of ice sturdy enough for the three of us to cross. Darius and I felt a little foolish, then. Neither of us had considered trying to freeze the water, though both of us knew how. The hike back to Fort Frostmoth was uneventful, if tiring, and the Captain took our report with little comment. She had no new information to add, and we were thanked and dismissed.

We reached Khuul the next afternoon and walked to Ald Velothi, expecting to find them in the same shape as the citizens of Khuul: angry, with casualties, but hopefully with information as well. When we reached the outpost, though, no one was there. There were broken-in doors and some smashed crates here and there, but no bodies, living or dead. No blood, no tracks leading into the wilderness. It was almost as though they had vanished.

With no one to talk to and little in the way of information to be gleaned from a visual inspection of Ald Velothi or the surrounding area, Darius and I gave up, frustrated, and made our way back to Khuul to take the long strider ride south.

-oOo-

I left my letters and a little gold with the caravaner at Vivec, though I didn't know how long it would take for them to find their intended recipients and I'd had to guess about my mother's location, and sent it to Skingrad. She'd never really spoken much about her home city. Though I'd never been there I hoped the walls were high and sturdy, and that the daedra stayed well away. I couldn't imagine fleeing Ald'ruhn just to run into the teeth of the daedra again in Cyrodiil.

Darius and I walked into Vivec, which seemed untouched by the troubles brewing elsewhere. People went on with their business, children ran around in the fresh air. The only thing different was the temperature. It was getting cooler. Summer had long since given up to autumn.

Darius and I walked around the edge of the Foreign Quarter in companionable silence, packs slung over our shoulders, watching the people of the city. I wasn't looking forward to seeing Vivec again, by any means, but we needed answers. He knew something, he _had_ to know. Even if it was just suspicions, we needed that information.

We were on the bridge headed south when a stranger walked directly into Darius. His hand dropped to the hilt of his sword, reflexively, but the stranger was contrite, bowing and smiling, making apologies before hurrying away.

When I turned back to Darius he was holding an envelope of heavy white paper, blank but for a deep red seal. I didn't recognize the imprint in the wax, of crossed swords and a crown. He stared at it for a moment, expressionless, then saw me looking and shook his head, glancing back at the stranger. Had he pushed the envelope into Darius' hands when I wasn't looking? "Let's find some privacy, if we can," he said, tucking the envelope away and walking on.

We found an alcove out of the way of most of the foot traffic, and when we ducked into it Darius broke the seal and opened the envelope. Inside was only a single page. He scanned it quickly, eyes darting along the paper, until he gripped the note tighter and scowled. When he finished reading, he swore so bitterly that I startled as he thrust the paper into my hands. "Read it," he ordered, stalking away.

"_Darius_, (it read)

_Turnabout's fair play, isn't it? And now I have a package for you. I think you'll like this one about as much as the last, more's the pity._

_I've been vacationing in Mournhold. It's a lovely place. Nice climate, plenty of money, all sorts of interesting substances. We had such a good time together on Vvardenfell. You should join me here. It will be like old times, won't it?_

_A bit of news you might find of interest: Almalexia has started making public appearances again. She comes out of the temple a few days a week to address the people of the city. They adore her, of course, and why wouldn't they? In such uncertain times, to see a figure of power so devoted to her people is touching. She'd been in isolation for so long I'd heard rumors of her death. I've seen her myself, though, very much alive. We live in interesting times, my friend. _

_So come, join me in Mournhold. I owe you a drink by now, I would imagine, and I've plenty of drink to offer. I heard a rumor you were traveling with a priestess, though I can't imagine why. Bring her along, if you will. I've a sudden desire to confess all my darkest sins. With any luck, I'll have a few more good ones racked up by the time you arrive. _

_Oh, and do me a favor, if you would. Let's keep Vivec out of things for now, shall we? He's getting on in years, as you know, and we wouldn't want to cause him any undue stress. I'm looking forward to your arrival eagerly, my boy. Don't keep me waiting. Check in with me before you go reunite with your blushing bride, if you can restrain yourself. I don't think she'll mind. Almalexia was always such a gentle and forgiving woman, don't you think?"_

The letter was unsigned. I felt numb with surprise, though I understood why Darius had cursed. Almalexia couldn't be alive; Darius had killed her. At least… he'd said he had. It hadn't been idle boasting, I'd thought. It had weighed on him, made him grimmer and sadder. She must have survived somehow. If she saw him after he'd tried to kill her, I didn't imagine it would be a happy reunion.

And now this person wanted him to return to Mournhold? He'd be marked for death the instant Almalexia knew he was there; it was _insane_. I walked over to Darius, who was leaning over the wall of the walkway, looking down at the greenish water below. He took the letter back without a word, folding it up and tucking it into a pocket of his pack.

I waited for an indication of what we'd do now. The writer of the letter had said to come to Mournhold—had said I should come to Mournhold, and I didn't know how he or she knew about me—but it sounded like a very bad idea. Darius was silent, watching the water.

I didn't know what to say so I didn't say anything, and let him brood.

-oOo-

He still hadn't spoken more than a few words hours later, when we sat in a cornerclub in the Foreign Quarter. He'd got us a couple of rooms and some greef, but it was too bitter for my taste and I hadn't taken more than a couple of sips. We hadn't gone to see Vivec. Darius had walked around the city, staring blindly at the sky and the water around the cantons, roaming without destination or purpose, and I had followed at a distance, trying to give him space and time to think.

"You're quiet," he said, without looking at me. The candlelight made the bottles seem to glow, made his skin look golden.

I twisted the napkin in my hands. "So are you."

He shrugged a little, flicking the lip of his glass with a thumb. He didn't seem inclined to say anything else.

"I thought she was dead," I ventured. The letter had indicated a degree of urgency, and I didn't know if we could afford to take the time to sit in a bar and not talk to each other. Once, I would have told him to stop brooding and get going, but now… things had changed. I didn't know where we stood, now.

Darius took a drink, setting his cup down deliberately. "She _is_ dead. I killed her. And don't ask me if I'm sure, or how I really know. And don't give me that look, I know it was the first thing you thought of."

It had been, but still, I felt a flicker of annoyance.

He watched me. I was beginning to feel unnerved by the silent regard when he continued, "I know she's dead because I made sure of it. Because after she attacked me—and understand that I came very, very close to dying that day—when she was defeated, and dying, I knew that I had to make sure she was going to stay gone. She knew she'd lost and begged for mercy, promising all sorts of things. All lies." He took a heavy breath. "When I killed her, I cut off her head. I made sure she wouldn't come back. And now..." He trailed off, frowning, looking weary and grim.

Threads of ideas seemed to slip away from me, fragments of suspicions and hunches, but nothing settled. Nothing was clear; everything was urgent. "I understand," I said at last, carefully. "And I believe you. But the letter indicates that someone is claiming to be her, making public appearances _as_ her. Would the general public know the difference between the genuine Almalexia and an impostor?" Few people had actually heard of her death, and even fewer had accepted it, as far as I knew.

"No. I don't think they would," he said, looking relieved, suddenly. "It's worth investigating, in any case."

"So we're going to Mournhold?" I asked, feeling a swell of apprehension. I half hoped he'd say no.

"Yes," he said. "We're going to Mournhold. There's transport from Ebonheart. We'll head there in the morning."

I took a drink of the bitter greef, grimacing in distaste. I'd never been off Vvardenfell in my life, and here in the space of a fortnight I'd be going to Solstheim _and_ the mainland. I'd never have guessed it. "Who are we meeting down there?" I asked, suddenly curious. "The letter wasn't signed."

Darius laughed, a harsh sound without a trace of humor, and took a drink. His expression was contemplative and as bitter as the liquor. "We're going to see Caius Cosades," he ground out finally, scowling. "May daedra haul him to hell."

-oOo-

I hadn't expected Darius to relent to using a guild guide, but apparently the length of the overland journey was enough to discourage even him. When the mage put her hand on my arm I hardly noticed until I had the sensation of the world moving at a tremendous speed, shifting around me in a blur of color and rushing light, and though I stood still I squeezed my eyes closed, completely disoriented.

When I opened my eyes, we were in a different room. Darius was beside me, shaking his head, a little unsteady on his feet.

Aside from an Argonian and an Imperial man reading on the bench nearby, we were the only ones in there. When the Imperial looked up and saw us he closed his book and tucked it under his arm, picking up a satchel and walking away. Darius watched him, and when he turned a corner, moving out of sight, Darius took my arm and we followed. As we walked around the corner, we nearly ran into him, and Darius opened his mouth to speak but the older man—Caius Cosades?—shook his head. "We don't have much time before the guard comes back," he said in a low voice, opening his bag. "Be quick, be quiet, and follow my lead. We'll speak at the house."

He pulled out a woman's robe from his satchel, shaking it out and handing it to me, indicating I should put it on. I set aside my bow and quiver, and obeyed. The robe was much finer than my traveling clothes, dark blue with silver embroidery down the front, and when I had it on he slipped a modest jeweled amulet around my neck, adjusting it deftly. He turned to Darius, handing him a shirt and a long robe of coarse, bland material and motioning for him to unbuckle his sword belt. Once the belt was free, he wrapped up the sword and my bow and quiver in a length of the same coarse cloth, buckling the bundle alongside Darius' pack where it didn't look conspicuous. Once Darius had pulled the shirt on and fastened the robe, the older man looked at us critically. Quickly, he reached out a hand and mussed Darius' hair, making him look a bit scruffy, and before I could stop him, he pinched my cheeks.

He handed Darius my pack and his satchel, and turned to offer me his arm. I took it, thoroughly bewildered. "Stay a couple of steps behind, and don't talk to anyone," he said to Darius. "Let's go."

The whole thing had taken less than a minute.

We strolled out of the palace, slower than I expected. I thought we'd try to get to a secure place as quickly as possible, but Caius seemed to be in no hurry. People glanced our way every now and then, and Caius—because it _must_ be Caius, given Darius' acquiescence and irritation—nodded at them pleasantly in greeting. We made our way through a plaza area with few people, Darius walking behind us.

I tried not to gawk at the new sights, not wanting to look like a tourist. I'd thought Vivec was big, but Mournhold seemed even more enormous. I'd never been in a walled city before but what I could see was sprawling and grand, and I saw hints of more peeking over the tops of the district walls, spires and rooftops fading into the distance. The city had to be immense.

As we went through a set of large doors, Caius explained, "This is Godsreach, where the wealthier citizens of Mournhold live. I've rented a house here." I nodded, looking around. It was impressive. I'd never seen plants like these before: great plumed grasses and flowering cacti, meticulously groomed. The people in the area looked well-dressed, and the street and buildings were scrupulously clean. The whole area looked expensive.

"Here we are," he said, indicating one of the largest houses. As he was fishing for his key a middle-aged woman, impeccably dressed, rounded the corner. When she saw me she smiled, dimples appearing in her cheeks, and walked over. "Caius," she cooed, "I didn't know you had guests coming."

He turned, immediately flashing a charming grin. "Ah, Miranda… yes. This is my niece. She's going be staying with me for a while. My dear, this is my neighbor, Miranda Rasinna. She lives on the other side of Godsreach."

He didn't know my name, I realized. I stepped forward and clasped her outstretched hand. "It's nice to meet you," I told her, and remembered to smile. "I'm Alora."

"Caius, how delightful!" Miranda exclaimed, patting my hands. "I didn't know you had a niece. You're just coming into town, then?" she asked, eyeing the bags Darius was carrying. "Where are you from, dear?"

Acting or not, I didn't have to feign the sudden lump in my throat. "Ald'ruhn," I answered, after a moment. I'd thought of the people, of Fa, but I hadn't thought about the loss of the town itself, and what it would mean. It would never be my home again. I swallowed. "I've come from Ald'ruhn."

An expression of pity came over her soft features, and she squeezed my hand. "I'm sorry, my dear. I heard what happened there. So horrible." I nodded mutely. Behind me, I heard Darius shift.

"Miranda, I've got to get her bags taken care of and get the new help sorted out," Caius said. "It's good to see you."

"Oh, you too, Caius," she said. Darius and Caius went inside the house, leaving me alone with Miranda, who still hadn't let go of my hand. "So you're staying with your uncle?" she asked. "It's good of him to take you in."

"Yes, it is," I agreed, nodding and wishing I could pull my hand away. "I'm very grateful. He's been so kind." I hoped I wasn't overplaying it.

She smiled a little, shrewdly, and I felt a pang of fear that she knew. She gave my hand a final pat, and released it. "May I ask you a silly question?" she asked, with a coy little chuckle. I nodded, apprehensive. "Do you know if that dashing uncle of yours is seeing anybody?"

_Oh_, I thought, and then: _Dashing? _I grasped for words, wondering what I was supposed to say. Finally I answered honestly. "I'm sorry, I don't know. I've only just arrived."

She smiled again, more broadly. "Of course, my apologies. You'll have to come over for a meal sometime. I'd be delighted to have you."

"I'd like that," I lied, and as soon as she turned to leave I fled inside Caius' house.

The moment the door was closed, Caius approached me, his arms crossed. "What did you tell her?"

I gulped. "That I was grateful my uncle had offered to take me in after Ald'ruhn was destroyed, and that you'd been very kind. She wanted to know if you were seeing anyone."

He looked amused. "What did you say?"

"The truth. That I'd just arrived, and I didn't know."

"Excellent." He seemed pleased. "I'm Caius Cosades, by the way, though you probably know that already. Welcome to my humble home." It wasn't humble, not by any means. It was one of the largest houses in the district and the interior was richly furnished and well-appointed. There were planters along the walls, and in them the same strange plants I'd seen outside. Rows of bookshelves were placed around the room, loaded with books I didn't recognize. I was immediately intrigued.

"Did there happen to be a point to all of that?" Darius asked, irritated, pulling off the coarse shirt and the old one with it. There was a new scar across his ribs that I'd never seen before, as long as my hand, taut and pinkish. He saw me looking and turned away.

Caius watched us both, bemused. "Of course there was," he replied. "By diverting attention to the girl and hiding you in plain sight, we managed to smuggle the Nerevarine into Almalexia's city with no one the wiser. The people in Godsreach are the worst kind of snobs. They wouldn't think to give any notice to a hired hand." He looked at me, curiously. "So you'd be the priestess, then. Who is it you serve?"

"I serve Azura at Her temple north of Vos," I answered, feeling a little defensive, though I didn't know why.

Caius laughed, surprised, and his eyebrows rose. He turned to Darius. "Is this _that_ one?"

Darius glowered. "Yes," he answered shortly, and pulled on a clean shirt.

"Well, well." Caius looked thoughtful, an odd smile playing at the corner of his mouth. "Interesting."

Though I didn't think it was possible, Darius' expression got even darker.

Caius seemed to shake himself. "Alora, was it?"

I tried to be polite. "Alora Sintieve, yes. Pleased to meet you," I said, though I didn't know if I was pleased or not yet, truth be told. Certainly Darius had never looked so dour.

Caius tilted his head, interested. "Sintieve, and from Ald'ruhn. You're Cienne's little girl then, aren't you?"

"Yes," I answered, astonished. "How do you—"

"We've actually met before, though I doubt you remember. Your mother is quite a gifted alchemist. She did specialty work for the Blades on occasion."

Now I could feel my eyebrows rise in surprise. "The Blades?" I gaped at him. "You mean _the_ Blades?"

He smiled. "Yes, of course."

"I didn't even know there _were_ Blades on Vvardenfell," I said, immediately feeling foolish.

Caius turned to Darius, looking incredulous. "You didn't tell her?" Darius shook his head, not looking at me. "You brought her here, into _this_, and you didn't tell her?" Caius demanded.

Darius didn't say anything.

After a moment, Caius turned back to me. "Please, make yourself at home. I need to have a word in private with our sullen friend, here. If you'll excuse us."

He gave Darius a severe look and walked upstairs, and Darius followed behind him reluctantly, leaving me alone to wonder what in all the hells was going on.


	10. Chapter 10

With the both of them upstairs I could hear the sounds of muffled conversation, but couldn't make out what they were saying. As much as I wanted to know what was going on, it wouldn't do to get caught with my ear to the door, so I settled for waiting downstairs and hoping I'd be filled in later.

I wandered through the main room and picked up a book to read as I waited. It wasn't a long one, and I had almost finished it by the time Caius and Darius made their way back downstairs. I moved to close the book and get to my feet, but Caius shook his head. "No, don't get up." He sat down across from me at the table, looking a little tired. Darius pulled out a chair and sat down beside me. He'd lost his irritated expression, at some point, which only made me wonder even more what they'd said to each other.

Caius looked at the book in my hands. "Are you a student of history?"

"A little." I closed the book, waiting.

"Is that the one on Pelagius?" Caius asked. I nodded.

"He was crazy, wasn't he?" asked Darius. His stomach growled and Caius got to his feet and walked out without answering, and when he came back, he was carrying a tray of food.

"You'll have to forgive my bad manners, I don't do much entertaining. Please, eat. And no, this wasn't the mad one, this was the first one. Tiber Septim's heir." I took a plate and some of the cheese and bread. I didn't recognize the fruits, but Caius saw me eyeing them and explained, "Apples, pears. They grow quite well in the areas outside Mournhold, though they're not native." We ate quietly for a few minutes, absorbed in our own thoughts.

"Did you have any particular interest in Pelagius?" Caius asked. "Or had you just picked a book at random?"

I swallowed. "I'd never read about him before. I'd seen notes in other books that he'd died young, but I didn't know more than that. It's sad, really."

"Oh?" His tone was casual, but he watched me closely. "Why's that?"

I hesitated. "He was cut down so young. And in the Temple of the One, no less. I know that following Tiber Septim's reign must have been difficult to live up to, but it seemed he was going to be a good leader. And then he was gone."

"Please don't get him started talking history," Darius said, already looking resigned. I gave him a curious look.

Caius smiled. "Darius has the unfortunate but wholly common view of history as little more than a series of dates in a book, or a long line of conquerors. And while battles and armies do their part to shape the history of nations, frequently far more important are the small details people overlook. A young Emperor feels the burden of leadership and takes refuge in prayer, where he meets an assassin's knife and the story of the Empire is changed forever. A farmer in High Rock decides to water his stock on land someone else has claimed, and a war for territory begins that claims hundreds of lives." He looked at Darius. "A stableboy in the Imperial City needs some extra coin and gets a job that brings him to the attention of the Blades, and a few years later Dagoth Ur is dead and Morrowind is saved."

I watched Darius, who was silent.

"More often than not," Caius continued, "it's the little moments that change the world. I think you understand. " He looked at me levelly.

I nodded.

"Excellent. Let's get to business, then." He pushed his food to one side and steepled his fingers in front of him on the table. "As you may have surmised, I'm a Blade. So is Darius, though he attempted to resign some years ago. And we find ourselves in the unusual position of being sworn to protect the Imperial line, yet having no descendants of that line to protect."

I glanced over at Darius, who looked back at me and said nothing. The anger seemed to have drained from him almost entirely.

"I received orders," Caius continued, "to return to Cyrodiil. But these orders were unspecific, and came two days after Almalexia began making public appearances. You know I'd considered resisting being recalled before," he told Darius, "and this time I have. There's no Emperor and no heir to protect, and so no point in returning to Cyrodiil. In the absence of that, I think the best way to uphold my promises to the Empire is to remain here and try to maintain stability. In this instance, it means keeping an eye on the situation in Mournhold."

"Have any of the other Blades around resisted recall as well?" Darius asked.

"Not that I know of," Caius answered. "But the situation is delicate. Nine-Toes is the only Blade left in Balmora, and he was ordered to stay there. We lost Gildan at Ald'ruhn. The others, as far as I know, have left for Cyrodiil, including those posted on mainland Morrowind. But that's its own problem."

"Why?" I asked.

Caius and Darius exchanged a significant look before Caius answered, "Because I believe there's a traitor among the Blades. I used to work in and out of the Palace, and I was one of the few, I thought, who knew of the Emperor's secret escape route through the prison. It was a closely held secret. That the Emperor died while following that route—that assassins even got in the palace in the first place—indicates to me that they had someone on the inside to give them information. To tell them where to enter the tunnels, where to wait, the best places for an ambush." He shook his head. "We didn't just lose a good Emperor that day. We lost many of the best of the Blades. I have to wonder if those who remain might be harboring our traitor, knowingly or not, and trying to pull the strings of the Blades in the other provinces," he finished.

I considered that. "What's your plan, then? And why did you want Darius and me to come?"

He gave a short laugh, a rueful sound. "My plan, such as it is, is to investigate the sudden reappearance of our favorite local goddess. I don't think she's necessarily the real deal, but if she isn't she's a clever imposter. We need to find out who stands to gain from putting a puppet goddess in the public eye and find out the scope of what they might be trying to achieve. If she _is_ the real thing, well…" We shook his head. "We've got serious problems."

Darius made a sound, not quite a laugh, but didn't interrupt.

"As for your second question," Caius went on, "I've already explained that allies are desperately thin right now. I already asked for reinforcements in Mournhold and was denied. Understandably so, since they've got their own problems in Cyrodiil. But that leaves very few people in Morrowind I can trust, and no Blades up the chain of command that I can be sure aren't traitors. Darius had never seen the escape route; he couldn't have been the one to give up the information. And because of his history with Almalexia, he's the natural choice to help me here in Mournhold. I asked you to come along because I trust Darius' judgment, and if he trusts you as an ally, then I believe I can do the same. And I can always use another set of eyes and ears. I can only be in so many places at one time."

"Are you going to make her a Blade?" asked Darius.

"No," Caius said firmly, shaking his head. "For a number of reasons, no. But this is Blade work. I can't order you, because you're not one of mine," he said, looking at me seriously, "but the Blades have contracted with civilians for specific jobs in the past. Would you be willing to work with us?"

My throat had gone dry, for some reason. I cleared my throat. "In what capacity?"

"In every capacity. If you work with us in this matter I will need three things from you," he said, and ticked them off on his fingers. "Your talents, your obedience, and your silence. If you agree to this, you will help in whatever way you can. You will obey orders, if it's necessary to give them. You will tell no one about the specifics of what we do, not family, not the other members of your order, no one, now or in the future. In return, you'll have access to all the resources I have, which are not insignificant, and whatever protection I can offer."

I tried to think. "What _do_ you want me to do?"

He leaned back in his chair. "For now, I want you to pretend to be my niece. It's a convenient enough cover and shouldn't be a hard one to maintain. I want you to go with me to listen to Almalexia when she speaks, and see what sort of information we can get from her. You're new, so you'd be expected to ask questions, and your past at Ald'ruhn will make a number of people sympathetic. Darius will have a much harder time blending in, and we can't know for certain yet if Almalexia and her agents will try to kill him once they know he's here. Finding that out will have to be one of our objectives, as well. There may be other tasks in the future that arise, but until I know your answer one way or another, there's a limited amount we can discuss."

Darius and Caius both watched me, their faces curious but neutral. If Darius wanted me to give a particular answer, he gave no sign.

"Yes. Of course," I said. I'd promised to help Darius however I could, and none of the situations we'd been investigating were anywhere near resolved. I hadn't come this far to turn away now.

"Good," Darius said, getting up. "Could I have a bath now? That shirt had fleas in it."

-oOo-

When Caius had said to make ourselves at home, he'd meant it; we were to live there in the manor with him. After all the traveling we'd done, a rest in the bed he'd said was mine sounded appealing, but curiosity won out when Caius asked me if I'd like to come downstairs for a cup of tea.

Once he'd poured for us he sat down across from me, looking pleased for no reason I could fathom. "You know," he began, "Until today, I didn't know if you were actually real."

It was an odd way to begin a conversation. "Why not?"

He shook his head, smiling wryly. "Back in the day before we knew he really was the Nerevarine, Darius would drag himself back into Balmora in the worst condition you can imagine. He'd be sunburned, bleeding and dazed, going on and on about being lost in the ashlands, or wounded in a cave somewhere. About how a woman in blue would find him, miraculously, claiming to be from the temple of Azura. Bring him water, heal him up, watch over him as he slept, and then disappear into thin air." He gave a short huff of a laugh. "I thought he was hallucinating. He'd already begun having strange dreams by then. I thought you were just another one of them, or that he was having helpful visions. It wouldn't have surprised me. I didn't know that you actually traveled with him."

"I didn't." He raised his eyebrows. "Not really," I amended, "and not like this." I took a drink, thinking back. "This is actually easier, strange as it sounds. Now I can get an idea of what's going on. Back then, it was just pieces. I'd be told that he was wounded by the Druscashti or lost north of Indoranyon, and I'd be ordered to go. Fix it. Patch him up, get him back on the right path. That sort of thing."

"He tells me he couldn't have gotten the Telvanni nod without you. Is that so?"

"Mistress Dratha?" He nodded slightly, watching. His voice had been casual but his eyes seemed intent. I shifted in my chair, running my thumb along the handle of my mug, remembering. "I think he probably would have, honestly. It would have taken longer, and he'd have had to humble himself a bit more." I considered it, and allowed, "A lot more. But he'd have brought her around eventually. She's not that bad."

"Mmm. I've never met her, but I've heard plenty, and little of it good for those of us without breasts. How did you convince her to come around?"

I smiled a little, thinking back. "I told her that Darius had sacrificed much to follow our Lady's commands, and that he was Her faithful and devoted follower. Once Dratha considered that he was asking to be named Hortator in accordance with Azura's wishes, and not out of any personal desire for advancement, she reconsidered. As long as he was acting in obedience to a female power—"

"And not his own male ego," he interrupted, sounding pleased again.

"Exactly." I nodded. Of course, Daedra Princes weren't really gendered, but Azura had presented herself as female for all of recorded history. It had been close enough for Mistress Dratha.

"That was clever of you," he said, amused. "But Darius isn't really, is he?"

"Her faithful and devoted follower?" I laughed before I could think not to. "No." Not eagerly, anyway. He went through the required motions but not gladly, or quietly.

He considered me again. "Are priestesses allowed to lie?"

I shrugged. "It's the Telvanni. What else was I supposed to do?"

At that, he laughed, a silky, pleased sound. His smile made his eyes crinkle pleasantly. _Perhaps a little dashing_, I thought, _for an older man. If you were into that sort of thing. _

"What else, indeed." He got to his feet, walked to the other side of the kitchen and opened a cupboard. "You're all right, girl. And you probably made my job a little easier, so I believe I owe you one. Care for something stronger than tea?"

I liked him already. I knew that Darius hated him and respected him in almost equal measure, and that made me wary, but I liked him anyway, almost despite myself.

I shrugged again. "Sure. What do you have?"


	11. Chapter 11

"So tell me, what is it you do?"

I was eating breakfast at the little table in Caius' kitchen, and stopped to consider the question. "Do?" I thought about it. "I'm a priestess," I reminded him.

Caius ate an apple, leaning against the door frame. "No. I mean, what are you good at? Usually when I have people under me I already have some of idea of what kind of skills they have."

"Darius had me get a bow," I began. "But I haven't had much practice at all."

"You don't strike me as much of a warrior, even with sufficient practice." I looked at him, surprised and a little disappointed. "Don't misunderstand me," he continued. "Darius was practically born to hold a blade, and for people like that, using a weapon can be the most natural thing in the world. They don't understand why others don't take to it like they do. Are you trained in stealth at all?"

I shook my head.

"Magic?"

"A bit."

"What about when you were travelling from the temple to aid Darius? How did you defend yourself then?"

"I hid, mostly." I took a sip of strong tea. "If anything hostile got close—like up by Red Mountain—I'd just make myself invisible."

"You were at Red Mountain?" he asked. I nodded.

He considered for a minute. "Invisibility is no small skill. How much training have you had in the magical arts?"

"Not much. I'm Atronach-born." He raised his eyebrows. "When your magic doesn't come back on its own and you've got to drink a thousand potions to get any training in, it's too expensive to just practice," I explained. "And since it's easy to get stuck without it, it's not something you want to come to rely on."

"Have you any interest in learning more?"

I was baffled. "Well… yes. Of course. But…"

"One of the trainers at the Mages Guild owes me a couple of favors. I'll arrange for him to tutor you in the evenings. We'll work out the regeneration issue later; for now, I'll have him bring potions. Is that satisfactory?"

I nodded, a little dumbfounded.

"Good," he said, and left.

-oOo-

I'd thought we'd go see Almalexia that day, but Caius said no. "We're playing a role, don't forget," he said. "If we're being watched, we want to appear as normal as possible. You wouldn't come in straight from Ald'ruhn and immediately begin standing around the Temple waiting for Almalexia to come out."

With that he'd handed me a basket and a pouch of gold, and we set off for the bazaar. It seemed odd to me to go shopping at a time like this. We'd been in a rush, Darius and I, since we'd left the temple, going as quickly as we could from one objective to the next, and so the sudden relaxation in pace was unexpected. But Caius said that when people rush, they make mistakes, and now was a time to watch and wait.

We browsed together through the bazaar, buying fruits and cheeses and strange foods I'd never seen before. He pointed out things he thought I might not recognize since I'd been on Vvardenfell all my life. It sounded as though he'd traveled all over, and he knew much more than I did.

We ate a late lunch on a stone bench in the bazaar, watching the people of the city. Ald'ruhn was largely a Dunmer city, and while there were plenty of Dunmer in Mournhold, here in the bazaar there was a blend of races on a scale I'd never seen. The sheer size of the crowd fascinated me. When we got up to head back to Godsreach, I asked Caius, "May I ask you a question?"

He looked amused. "I can't promise that I'll answer. But yes, you can ask."

I shifted my basket on my arm. "Why was Darius in prison?"

He hesitated. For a moment I thought he wouldn't answer, but as we started walking, he began, "Most people who find themselves in the Imperial City prison would tell you of their innocence, because most of them are liars as well as thieves or murderers. Darius' case is quite different. You know he was a stable hand at the City for many years, don't you?"

I shook my head. "He never talked about his life before he came to Morrowind."

"No," said Caius. "I suppose he wouldn't. In any case. He was abandoned as a newborn in the Imperial City, and the couple that ran the stable at the time took him in. Didn't adopt him, mind you, just took care of him and when he was old enough, put him to work." He looked over the crowd and went on, "When he was a young man, he took a second job. Had a girl he was fond of, from what I understand; he wanted to marry her, and needed money. The second job was at a boarding house frequented by the Blades. You know Darius. He's personable. People tend to like him. So he became popular, and when his story got around—you know the one, born on a certain day to uncertain parents—the Blades brought him to the attention of the Emperor."

His eyes swept the crowd. For what, I didn't know, but after a moment he went on. "After Uriel took notice, things happened quickly, or so I was told. I'd been in Balmora for years by then, and didn't know the whole story until after he'd shown up on my doorstep. He'd come to work one evening, said hello to the regulars, and they arrested him. After that, he spent a couple of nights in prison—and the Imperial City prison is no picnic, believe me—and they shipped him off to Morrowind. You know the rest. Make no mistake, Darius is no innocent. But he was arrested on a false charge, and forcibly impressed into the service of the Empire. It's an ugly business."

"Why does he…" I trailed off, and Caius looked at me, expectantly.

"If you have questions, ask. I'll answer if I can. You don't learn if you don't ask."

I tried to think how best to word it. "Why did he get so angry at you, if you weren't part of it? You didn't send him to prison."

"True. But I was part of the machine that had wronged him. And I was the one that gave him the news that if he didn't want to go back to prison for the rest of his life, he'd have to join the Blades and follow my orders." He seemed to think it over. "I don't blame him for his anger. As a younger man, I'd have been angry, too. Have I satisfied your curiosity for the moment?"

I thought a bit. It was a lot to take in, but the information explained so much I hadn't understood. "What happened with the girl? Back in the Imperial City?" I asked after a moment.

"Oh, she was long gone. By the time he got back to Cyrodiil to look for her she'd married someone else. Of course," he said, glancing at me, "by the time he had the chance to go back to Cyrodiil I think he'd been ready to move on, as well. Do me a favor and keep this conversation between us, would you? If Darius hasn't told you by now, there's a reason. I trust you can hold your tongue?"

"Yes. Sorry," I added. "I didn't mean to pry."

Though that wasn't even close to honest, Caius just shook his head. "Don't ever apologize for being curious. A bright and inquisitive mind is as good a weapon as any sword, when properly used." He looked at me, with the same critical expression he'd had back at the reception area the day before. "Niece, I think you're going to need some new clothes if you're going to be living in Godsreach. Let's make one more stop."

-oOo-

I don't know how Caius managed it, but the trainer from the Mages Guild showed up that evening with a box full of potions. He determined that I had a knack for illusion, but Caius, standing by and watching with interest, told him to teach me what he could of destruction as well.

At the end of the evening, the trainer pronounced my progress "adequate," which I took as a good sign, and said he'd return the next evening. In the meantime, he assigned some reading and left me a few new spell books. I drank another few potions, grimacing at the taste, to top off my magicka. I made a face after the last one. "Whoever brewed these never planned on having to drink them himself."

Darius laughed a little. "Can't you mix them with honey or something? Make them go down easier?"

"I wish I could, but no," I said, putting the bottle away. "Honey slows absorption, makes potions less effective. More's the pity."

"All the more motivation to learn quickly," Caius said, handing me a small stack of books. "More spells. I'd like you to learn them, if you can. They'll be useful to have at our disposal."

I nodded, looking them over. Lightning, domination, demoralization, debilitation… I didn't know any of them. They sounded complicated, and powerful, and that meant there'd be a lot more foul-tasting potions in my immediate future.

"I thought you did well," Darius offered. He'd been quiet today. Much more subdued than before.

"I know I'm just beginning," I offered, "but with the opportunity to practice…"

"Every great sorceress has to start somewhere," Caius said. "And you've made a good start tonight. But it's late and there's much to do tomorrow. I'm turning in. Until tomorrow morning." He walked upstairs, and after a moment I could hear his door close.

"So tomorrow," I began, sitting in the chair next to Darius, "we're going to see Almalexia, and what else?"

"We're sending a message to King Helseth. I don't know how. You might have to do it. I don't know if Caius will do it himself or if he'd trust a courier. He doesn't want me setting so much as one foot outside." His voice was tinged with impatience.

"It's for your own protection. I know you don't want to hear it, but it is," I insisted.

He didn't look convinced. "He seems to have taken to the idea of using you very easily." Darius rubbed his jaw, frowning. "I don't think he'd actually hurt you himself, but he'd put you in harm's way without a second thought if he thought it might get results. Be careful, will you?" His forehead was creased in concern.

I nodded, thinking it over. "You know," I said, leaning in and very quiet, "he talked about there being a traitor in the Blades, and how it couldn't have been you. The escape route was only known to a few people, right? He's one of those people. Could he be the traitor, and could that be why he's staying in Morrowind even after he's been recalled?"

"I don't think so," he answered, just as quietly. "But it's something to keep in mind. Promise me you'll be careful around him," he said, and I nodded.

-oOo-

Caius did end up taking the message to Helseth himself, which left me the morning to study. Darius had lost his calm from the previous day, it seemed. He paced, agitated and glowering at the door.

"It will be fine, you know," I insisted, watching him stalk back and forth. "We know it can't really be her, so it's got to be an impostor. We just have to confirm it and expose her."

"It's me, Alora. Do you think anything's ever going to be that simple?" He didn't slow his pacing, even to flick a lock of dark hair out of his eyes.

"You need a haircut," I noted, amused.

Darius frowned. "You'll forgive me if I've had more on my mind than hair the last few weeks. Did Caius say when he'd be back?"

"No. It should be soon, though."

"Just be careful. Stay close to Caius and don't do anything that'll bring you to her attention. Or the attention of her Hands. They're a twitchy bunch of bastards."

"I'll keep that in mind."

He sighed raggedly. "I don't think you're taking this seriously enough."

"I'm being perfectly serious. But it will look more suspicious if I go see Almalexia as a nervous wreck instead of a curious tourist. I'm not a fool, Darius," I reminded him. "You brought me here for a reason. Let me do what I can."

The door opened, and Caius looked inside. "Are you ready?"

"Yes." I stood up, and Caius ducked back out. Before I could take a step to follow, Darius caught me by the upper arm, leaning close and whispering into my hair, close enough that I could feel his lips brushing my ear. "Remember: be careful. Of her, and of him."

I nodded slightly, and stepped out into Godsreach.

-oOo-

Mournhold was lovely. It wasn't something I'd been able to appreciate on the walk from the palace to Caius' house because I'd been too distracted by Caius. In the bazaar, I'd been fascinated by the sheer size of the crowd. But now, with the streets largely empty, I could appreciate the city itself. I'd never seen so much green in my life. The cities on Vvardenfell were all browns and grays, but here the great greenish walls reached skyward and beautiful drooping trees lined the roads, surrounded by manicured patches of grass. To Ashland-born eyes, it was lush and exquisitely beautiful.

Still, nothing could have prepared me for the temple. Twin spires rose hundreds of feet into the air with arches connecting them to the main building, which itself seemed big enough to hold a town like Balmora.

A crowd of perhaps seventy people had gathered at the bottom of the temple stairs, fewer than I'd been anticipating. We stood at the back of the crowd, waiting, as it began to drizzle. "If it rains," Caius said, "she might not come out and speak at all."

"Are there usually more people here?" I asked.

"Sometimes. Sometimes not. The weather may have kept many indoors."

Then the door of the Temple opened, and Almalexia emerged. The crowd cheered a bit, and she smiled. As she got closer, I could see her better. She was incredibly beautiful: coppery red hair, brightly golden eyes, gold-tinged skin. I had never laid eyes on the real Almalexia, so I couldn't tell at a glance if this one's appearance differed from the original, but either way, the people of Mournhold didn't seem to notice any difference. But there was no well of power around her like there had been around Vivec, no sense of presence. She beamed prettily at those who gathered to see her. "I won't keep you more than a moment," she said, holding up a hand. "I wouldn't want you to stay out in the cold and damp." There were smiles from the crowd. I tried to crane my neck a little, to see better, but didn't want to attract attention. Four of her Hands had come out to flank her, watching the assembled people, and I remembered what Darius had said about them and tried to be inconspicuous.

"You know of the hardships that have befallen Tamriel," she began. Her voice was even and sweet, but somehow carried to the back of the crowd. "And every day, we hear more news of Dagon's invasion, more news of people killed, displaced, wounded. They are tidings to shake the strongest of hearts. And what have the Nine done? Have they intervened to save their people? No. Have the Daedra taken action against their ambitious Prince? No. Across Tamriel, Dagon's forces are on the march, with no one to stop him." Her face was grave. "But not here. Dagon remembers well his defeat at My hands, in this very city, and as your Mother, I promise that to those who are true, My protection will be given. By My love and grace, Mournhold will stand, and though the Empire may fall into ruin, we will endure."

It began to rain, then, in earnest. Despite it, she smiled beatifically at the adoring crowd. "Thank you all. Until we meet again, blessings and joy," she said, and turned, and walked back into the Temple.

Caius took my arm. "Not a word until we get back to the house," he muttered, low enough I could barely hear. I hadn't intended on discussing it out in the open anyway, but the rain provided a good excuse not to linger. We ran back to Godsreach.

As soon as we were in the house, Darius shot to his feet and walked over. "Well?"

"She's a fake," I said, grimly triumphant, shaking water off my cloak.

Caius frowned. "What makes you so certain?"

"You remember when we went to see Vivec?" I asked, and Darius nodded. "He had… a type of aura. Extremely powerful magicka shines like a beacon if you're attuned to it, and I could feel it surrounding him. It would have been impossible _not_ to notice. And I knew it was just residual from when he was a god, but standing in his presence was nearly overwhelming. This woman has nothing like that. No sense of power, nothing, not even residual. Either she lost her power entirely and somehow survived having her head cut off, or this is a different person. We were what, forty feet from her? Forty-five? And I didn't feel a trace of what I felt around Vivec. I don't think there's any way it could really be her."

"If you're attuned to it," Caius repeated, giving me an odd look. "And you are, I imagine?"

I shrugged. "I'm Atronach-born and a Breton; I'm doubly sensitive. But any Breton could have told you, probably. Or any Altmer, if they'd seen the real Almalexia, or if they'd ever met Vivec and had anything to compare her to. She can't be who she says she is."

Darius let out a heavy breath and sat back down. "Thank the Nine," he muttered, looking relieved. "So whoever this person is, she's just lying, then, pretending."

Caius frowned again, looking thoughtful. "I don't think so."

"She just said…" Darius began, indignant.

"Alora's analysis notwithstanding, I don't think Almalexia—or the person claiming to be Almalexia—is lying. I've watched her for some time, remember, and I've got a good deal of experience in determining when someone is bending the truth. She's exhibiting none of the signs of it. As it seems this is not the real Almalexia, it appears that we are dealing with a pretender who _believes_ herself to be the real Almalexia. Either that, or the world's best actress."

"Does she look like the real Almalexia?" I asked. "I've only ever seen paintings and drawings in books."

"I don't know," Caius sighed. "I never saw the original, either. But the people don't seem to notice any difference. And I don't think her Hands would knowingly support an impostor. Unless they've all been replaced, and they might have been."

"Then I have to go," Darius said, jaw set. "I'm the only one who knows what the real one used to look like."

"Not until we know you won't be killed when she finds out you're here," Caius retorted.

"What are you going to do, walk up to her and ask?" Darius asked, laughing unhappily. "'Hey Almalexia, would you mind too much if the man who killed you walked around the city a little? He's getting bored.'"

Caius' eyebrows lowered. "Sarcasm isn't going to solve this, and a bad attitude will only make your time here worse."

"Who knows?" I interrupted, before Darius could retort.

"Who knows what?" Caius asked, crossing his arms.

"Who knows that Almalexia tried to kill you?" I clarified, trying to think. "You came back to Mournhold, didn't you, afterwards? And none of her Hands tried to kill you. None of the guards seemed to know anything about a battle. Right?" Darius nodded, thinking. "If that's the case," I continued, "and the only ones who knew that you'd fought were you and her, then you might be safe. Because the impostor wouldn't know anything of a battle between the two of you. She might see you as an ally instead of an enemy."

Both men looked thoughtful. "That's a big might," Caius said, doubtfully. "Nonetheless, even if she doesn't see you as an ally, she probably wouldn't recognize you at all. You can go outside, if you must." He shook his head, not liking it. "I'd appreciate it if you'd keep your cover identity going. Don't go in the Temple district yet. Let's not take any unnecessary chances. And don't go into the city with Alora. If I've got to make you disappear again, it'll be useful for her to have plausible deniability about the whole affair. Understood?"

"Understood." Darius nodded, satisfied. For the first time since he'd come to the temple of Azura, he actually looked hopeful.


	12. Chapter 12

Helseth appeared to be in no hurry to get back with us, and in the days that followed I was freer than I'd been since before I went to the temple. I spent my mornings in the city, going where I pleased and running errands when I had to, coming to know Mournhold in all its graceful beauty. Every day at noon, Caius and I would meet at the Temple, and when Almalexia spoke—usually a few times a week—we listened together, and discussed any new developments over lunch at the house. In the afternoons, I cooked and read, and in the evenings I'd learn from the trainer, my spells becoming stronger by the day.

It was an oddly domestic little arrangement, and almost absurdly, a happy one. Eating late dinners with Caius and Darius, listening to them tell the most outlandish stories about adventures they'd had, it was almost possible to forget that we had no Emperor, that Ald'ruhn was an abandoned ruin and Fa was dead, or the frozen faces of the young mer at Thirsk.

Almost.

At night, lying alone and awake, I could think of little else.

One of those evenings we all sat at the little table in the kitchen, enjoying the company. Caius was reading a newspaper and Darius sat across from me, dealing cards. When he pushed my hand over to me I picked it up and considered it, playing idly with my stack of gold.

"You know," I said finally, pushing my bet to the middle of the table, "it's sort of pointless to play for money anymore."

Darius looked up, surprised. "Are you suggesting an alternative?" he said, not quite steadily.

"No." I admitted. "I just thought when we play, we pretty much just pass the same amount of gold back and forth. Neither of us really wins much. Why, what's the alternative?"

He colored a little and cleared his throat. "Well," he managed, "I've only ever played two ways. The way where you take people's gold, and the way where you take your clothes off."

"I vote for the latter," Caius said, not putting down his newspaper. When I glanced at him in surprise, he gave me a wink, and I could feel my cheeks get warm.

There was a knock on the door. Immediately serious, Darius pushed back in his chair and headed upstairs, out of sight. Caius put his newspaper beside Darius' cards, making it look like only two people had been at the table, and straightening his shirt, answered the door. I waited, but it was only a courier, and he didn't even come in. Caius took his letter and broke the seal immediately after the door was closed. He read the note quickly, and glanced up at me. "Helseth's finally seen fit to see us. Damn his timing. I was just starting to have fun."

-oOo-

There was some consternation about getting Darius out of the house and how to simultaneously make him look like a hired hand for the benefit of the neighbors and how to get him fit for an audience with the king. Caius seemed particularly insistent that Darius dress well, and then throw a workman's robe over his clothes, but Darius was just as stubbornly against the idea.

"I'm fine," he insisted. "I've seen him in worse."

Caius didn't like it, but the three of us set out into the evening air anyway. It didn't take long to get to the palace, and we were stopped in the reception area by a pair of red-armored guards. "His Majesty will see only you," one of them said to Darius. "Your companions will wait here under guard."

Darius cast a worried glance over his shoulder as they escorted him on, and I tried to look encouraging, but being separated made me nervous. Helseth had tried to kill him before, after all. It wasn't out of the question he might try again. I just hoped the king considered the reemergence of Almalexia to be a bigger threat than the reappearance of the Nerevarine in Mournhold.

Caius and I sat on a bench, under the eye of three guards who watched us closely. We said nothing, hardly moving, waiting. We didn't have to wait long. After perhaps twenty minutes, Darius walked back into the reception area, flushed with anger and shaking his head. "Let's go," he said, glaring at the guards.

We walked back to the house quickly, partly because Darius was stalking away in frustration, and partly because the temperature was dropping. A bitterly cold wind blew from the north, tugging at the ends of my robe and freezing my fingers. Caius looked at the sky. "We're in for a snowstorm, I think," he said. "Let's get indoors."

Back at the house, Darius threw himself into a chair and grumbled, "Helseth is an _idiot_."

"Oh?" Caius raised an eyebrow.

"He said he's 'working on the issue.' Which, for Helseth, means he's going to attempt to have her assassinated. And which, from his luck with that the last few years, means he's going to fail." He looked at me, irritated. "Essentially, he told me to keep my nose out of it, and that my being here would do more harm than good. He had nothing whatsoever to add, no idea if she was an impostor or not, no idea when she showed up or how she got here. Absolutely nothing. What a waste of time."

"I don't imagine," said Caius, sitting down, "that anyone would go to the trouble to find a girl who looks enough like Almalexia to fool the masses, and either train her to control her body language entirely, or make her believe that she's actually the goddess herself and then not provide her adequate protection against attack."

"That's a lot of effort," I agreed, thinking. "And probably a sizable investment of time and money. Not the type of thing you'd let go unprotected." I looked at Caius, curious. "You're assuming that she's been placed here by someone else, and hasn't orchestrated it herself?"

"If there had been a girl somewhere who looked like Almalexia and believed herself to _be_ Almalexia, we'd have heard about it long before now. She'd have had a following in her hometown, perhaps, a minor cult. She wouldn't have shown up in the Temple spontaneously, and with such convenient timing. I think given the signs, we're dealing with a group of conspirators, not just her alone."

"Well, Helseth wouldn't hear it," Darius said sourly. "He's a clever man, but he thinks he's cleverer than he really is. If he makes a move against her… the Temple will push back, believe me. Hard."

We all considered the unpleasant implications of that.

"Is there any chance we could appeal to Queen Barenziah?" I asked. "She's had a lot more experience with the Temple than Helseth has. She might be more open to discussion."

Darius shook his head. "I don't know."

But Caius looked thoughtful. "It could work. We can try. We've few enough leads to go on; we might as well try what we can."

-oOo-

Caius had been right about the snow. It came down heavy and thick, the first storm of the season for Mournhold, and icy winds whipped down the streets, driving everyone inside. Except Caius. He'd gone out on an errand. I had to wonder if he might be a little mad.

Darius read newspapers at the table, comparing different takes on similar stories, scribbling notes in the margins. He had a wide smudge of ink on his nose, and hair kept falling in his face, poking at his eyes. It made him look younger, somehow, softer like he'd been when I'd first met him, and I couldn't help but smile at the sight.

It seemed like I'd spent most of my waking hours the last week with my nose in a book, and my brain was so full of new information that I very much wanted a break. Caius had added alteration spells to the list of what I had to learn, and I knew nothing about alteration to begin with. Changing reality, even temporarily, was shaping up to be much harder than changing the appearance of reality. But I'd agreed to follow orders, and orders were to learn as much as I could, as quickly as I could.

To what end, I didn't know.

I stretched, yawning, and got up. "I'm going to make some tea. Would you like some?"

Darius nodded without looking up, still reading, his forehead creased in concentration. I'd just put a cup in front of Darius when Caius came back in, red-cheeked and stamping snow off his boots. "If you've more of that," he said, pointing at the tea, "I'll take some."

After he got his heavy robe and gloves off and put them away, I handed him a full cup. "Thanks," he said, taking a sip and wincing at the heat.

"Can I ask what was so urgent you had to go out in a blizzard?"

He scoffed. "You've never seen a real blizzard, girl." He set the cup on a nearby table and reached into his pocket. "And it wasn't all that urgent. Just useful. Close your eyes."

"Why?"

"I have a present for you. Close your eyes," he repeated, the ghost of a smile at the edge of his mouth.

Darius and Caius were looking at me expectantly, so I swallowed my reluctance and closed my eyes. There was a rustling sound and a little click, and though I was tempted to peek, I didn't. Then something touched my throat and Caius lifted the hair off my neck, fastening something in place. His fingertips brushed down my collarbone, tracing lightly to the hollow of my throat, where something rested. I felt a shiver of something at the touch, a pull, somehow electric and grounding at the same time, and then I became aware of an entirely new sensation, faint but fascinating. Like the twinkling of distant stars, of brightness in an endless void. Magic.

"Can I open my eyes now?"

"Yes."

I did, putting a hand up to touch—a pendant, I supposed—roughly circular. Caius hadn't moved his fingers from my neck, and when I looked at him, uncertain, he narrowed his eyes and brushed a thumb up the side of my throat. I swallowed hard, unable to move. He pulled his hand away, watching me inscrutably, and I felt transfixed, as though I couldn't breathe, or look away.

"What is it?" Darius asked, getting up.

"A necklace," I answered, shaking myself and frowning. _Damn Imperials._ Natural charm was one thing, but this was ridiculous. I walked over to a nearby mirror, raising my chin so I could see better. It was a pendant, all right, carved out of some blue material into the shape of Azura's star.

"It's magic? It's restoring it…" I turned back to Caius. "How?" I could feel my magicka returning, slowly, trickling back like droplets of water into a barrel.

"You're asking the wrong person. Something about the Ayleids, that's all I know. I had the enchanter keep all his notes on it, if you wanted to look them over; they're too complicated for me to follow. He told me it wouldn't be immediate, so it's not something to count on in a fight, but that it'll recharge your magicka over time. And because of the shape, you shouldn't have any trouble passing it off as a temple amulet if you have to."

Darius nodded his apparent approval, looking it over.

"Thank you," I said, a little awed, "but this must have—"

"Cost a small fortune?" Caius finished, smiling. "It did. But I haven't responded to the recall, so I never told them I wasn't coming back. So far, they've not cut me off. I promised you considerable resources, didn't I? Consider it a gift from the Empire."

"Thank you," I said again. "What's our next step? To see Barenziah?"

"I couldn't even get a message to her," he said, shaking his head. "And though I left a letter for her, I've no faith it will find its way into her hands."

"I want to see Almalexia," Darius said, looking at Caius as though he expected an argument. "We're not learning anything, and we can't afford to stay here and do nothing. It's time we took a chance."

Caius nodded. "I think you may be right. You've been into the city the past week and a half with no trouble from the citizens or guards. And we do seem to be at a dead end, for the moment." He rubbed at his chin. "Very well. She won't speak today because of the snow, but the next time she comes out, we'll all go see her together. Agreed?"

I felt a wave of foreboding, but Darius was right. It was time to gamble. What else could we do?

-oOo-

The snowstorm lasted two days, and she didn't come out of the Temple on the third day on account of the ice. But on the fourth day just before noon, the three of us set out to the Temple to see her. Caius warned us not to speak of the matter until we were safely back at home, and we both nodded.

I knew it wasn't exactly home, but I did feel a growing attachment to the house, and especially to Mournhold. I'd be sad to leave it when I had to go back to the temple.

When we walked into the Temple district, more people than normal had come to see the goddess. Caius approved—a bigger crowd made for a larger cover—and we stood with everyone else at the base of the steps. Almalexia emerged to the delight of the gathered people, but for once I didn't concentrate on what she was saying. I watched Darius instead, as inconspicuously as I could. From the moment she came outside he stared at her, blind to the crowd, to the guards, to everything else, as though she were the entire world and nothing else existed. He barely seemed to breathe.

I wished she would stop talking so we could go home until she did stop talking, abruptly, and I wrenched my attention away from Darius to look at her. Her mouth was open in a little 'o' of surprise, a hand coming up to cover her heart. She stared wide-eyed and startled at Darius, who stared back at her, unmoving.

Almalexia blinked twice, quickly, confused. "Nerevarine?" Her expression wasn't what I had expected. There was no anger, no alarm. Only hope, slowly dawning over her lovely features. The sense of foreboding that had been nagging me for days exploded into dread, making my heart seem leaden and too tight in my chest. I looked to Darius' other side where Caius had been standing, but he'd vanished as surely as if he'd never been there at all.

Almalexia began to walk towards Darius, and without taking his eyes from her, he said, very faintly, "Don't leave me, Alora."

"I'm not going anywhere," I answered, just as faintly.

The crowd parted to let Almalexia through. She stopped in front of Darius, a look of wild incredulity on her face as she reached out to him, to touch his arms, his hands, his face and shoulders. Tears welled in her eyes. "It's really you," she said breathlessly. "You've come… oh, Nerevarine!" Joy broke over her features like a sudden dawn, and she laughed, her hands cradling his face. "It's really you!"

She kissed him then, dragging him over to meet her mouth and wrapping her arms around his neck. After a moment's hesitation Darius kissed her back, closing his eyes and pulling her close as the crowd roared its approval.

I felt like the bottom had fallen out of the world.

-oOo-

The crowd began to disperse, finally, everyone babbling excitedly to each other. There was no sign of Caius. Almalexia took Darius' hand, winding their fingers together, and began to lead him into the temple. Not knowing what else to do, I followed, until two of the Hands blocked my way.

Darius looked back. "No," he said absently, "she's with me."

It was, apparently, the wrong thing to say. The Hands let me by, but Almalexia stopped and turned to look at me. I'd thought Solstheim was cold, but the glare she gave me was positively glacial. "Who is she, Nerevarine?" she demanded, quietly. Her voice was still sweet, but now there was an edge to it she hadn't had in front of the crowd.

_It's a good thing she's not an actual goddess_, I thought, _or I would be dead by now._

"My advisor from the temple of Azura. Her name's…" He trailed off as I shook my head, very slightly. "Not important," he finished.

"I've missed you so, and we have so much to discuss," she said, holding him tightly. "Keep her here," she commanded her Hands. "She can wait."

"No, she…" Darius began. He looked at me, helplessly.

Almalexia glanced at Darius, puzzled, and frowned at me. "Stay here."

He'd asked me not to leave him and I didn't know if he still meant it, but I stepped forward, mustering all the calm and authority I could command. "My Lady Azura has given me a charge, and I am bound to obey. I serve the Nerevarine." I looked her squarely in the eye. "Not his betrayer."

Darius sucked in a deep breath, alarmed, and I could hear the metallic ring of swords being readied behind me. But backing down now wasn't an option. If the Hands got me alone they could kill me, or imprison me, and who knew what would happen to Darius if he went in the Temple by himself? We had to stick together. Otherwise, I feared, we'd be lost.

Where the _hell_ was Caius?

"What did you say?" Almalexia demanded, ashen.

I took another step forward, trying to marshal the necessary impassivity. "The Nerevarine was given life only by the grace of Azura," I said, keeping my voice as cold and even as I could. "He breathes by Her will; he serves as Her tool. If you've missed him so, perhaps you should have used your considerable powers to bring him back long ago." This close to her, I could acutely feel her normality. She had no more divinity than I did.

She stared back at me, stunned.

"Enough," Darius commanded, freeing himself from Almalexia's grasp and stalking towards me, his expression stormy. "She's coming with me." He grabbed me by the wrist, too tightly, and pulled me along while I tried not to squirm.

-oOo-

I had been kneeling for hours. It wasn't an exaggeration, unfortunately. We'd been led down into the Temple underground, through a series of hallways and into some kind of banquet hall. Only Almalexia and Darius, a Hand said, were allowed at the table, and since I was merely a servant, I must kneel and attend.

It beat being dragged off and killed, but after the fifth or sixth hour of it, I had to wonder by how much.

There wasn't as much conversation as I'd hoped. Servants brought out lutes, playing and singing, and at regular intervals trays of food were presented, and they ate. Every time Darius bit into something new I cringed inwardly, wondering at the likelihood of poison. Occasionally, they did talk, Darius in careful inquiries about the past, and Almalexia in vague visions of the future, their glorious future, together. So much for having so much to discuss.

I tried to shift, surreptitiously. I didn't know what time it was, save that it was getting late. Darius cleared his throat and pushed his chair back from the table.

"You're not leaving," she said, her pretty face baffled. "You can't leave."

"I have to. I have commitments I have to honor. You understand how important that is."

"I…" She looked at me, but I was careful to keep my expression neutral.

"Goodbye, Almalexia." He walked over to me and I stood up, stiffly.

"You'll come back, though," she said, confused.

"Yes," he said, so gently it surprised me. His eyes were soft when he looked at her. "I'll come back."

I almost didn't expect the guards to let us go, but they did. We made our way out of the Temple doors and into the evening, and walked in silence to Godsreach. As the doors of the district closed behind us, Darius asked quietly, "Can you make us both invisible? In case we're being tracked."

A couple of quick spells later, I couldn't see him. Caius' necklace seemed to hum softly in the starlight, a sensation I felt instead of heard. I couldn't tell if Darius had walked on, and for a moment I wondered if he'd left me there, but his fingers fumbled where he knew I'd been. He caught my hand and held it, and we walked together back to the house, invisible as air.

Caius wasn't there. I looked in all of the rooms and finally thought to cast a spell, but it revealed nothing. _He's been taken_, I thought, beginning to panic. _We have to find him_.

"He's fine," Darius called, from upstairs.

I raced up. "Caius?"

"He's not here," Darius said, pointing, "but he's not been taken. See the upside-down goblet on the desk? It's a signal. It means he's left of his own free will."

I thought wildly. "Do you know where he might have gone?"

Darius shook his head. "No, no idea. He'll turn up. Don't worry." He opened his mouth to say something else but stopped himself, his eyes downcast. "It's late. We should probably try to get some sleep. Caius will be back in the morning, I'm sure."

I didn't think that was what he was originally going to say, but I nodded anyway. We made sure everything was securely locked and turned in, but as tired as I was, I couldn't sleep. I lay awake for hours, unable to stop thinking, unable to get the day out of my mind.


	13. Chapter 13

Caius wasn't there in the morning, or the next morning. Neither of us knew what to do, except wait. We didn't answer the door, though people knocked on it all day. Everyone would be talking about the little scene at the Temple, we knew, but neither of us wanted to face the public.

We avoided each other as much as possible the first day. I passed the time reading spell books in the chair nearest the front door, waiting for Caius to return with an explanation. I hadn't liked being abandoned out there, but as the day went on the anger I'd had was quickly bleeding away into worry.

Darius spent the day in his room with the door closed. Doing what, I didn't know.

When the next morning dawned and Caius still hadn't returned, I started to worry in earnest, looking out the windows and waiting. I cooked a meal to have something to do, but it sat untouched on the table, getting cold. Evening was falling again when Darius finally came downstairs, and he looked over at me, sitting in the chair by the door. "He will come back, you know."

"What if he's in trouble?" I felt we should be doing something, that waiting was wasting time, but I had no idea what to do.

"I doubt there's much trouble that Caius can't handle himself."

It was a nice thought, but wasn't particularly reassuring.

"Do you want to play cards?" he offered.

I shook my head.

He walked over, frowning. "Are you sure it's just a restoration spell on that necklace? Because you've been kind of strange the last couple of days."

I frowned at him, immediately indignant. "You think _I've_ been strange? I'm not the one who—" I cut myself off, too late.

He sat across from me. "If you've got something you want to say, say it."

I laughed in disbelief. "I have nothing to say, believe me."

"Because of Almalexia? Or because I'm just a _tool_?" He gave a tight, bitter smile. It was an expression I'd never expected to be directed at me.

I winced. "I didn't mean that."

"Yes, you did. Look." He leaned forward. "I know how this works. I've been a tool for the Emperor, and I've been a tool for Azura, and I am _done_. I have done my time, I've done everything I've been asked, and I'm not doing any more."

"I didn't ask you to come here," I said, confused. "You asked _me_ to come."

"Well, maybe that was a mistake."

I sat back in my chair, stung.

"About the other day…" he began. "I'm sorry you had to see that."

Not sorry it happened, I thought. Sorry I saw it. Big difference. I took a deep breath, struggling for composure. "There's nothing to be sorry for," I insisted. "It's none of my business."

"It's not?" He laughed, unhappily. "I thought it was. There was a time when I thought that you and I might…" He trailed off, looking at me as his expression went reluctant. "I don't know. Be something. Together. I had a lot of time to think, you know, out there in the middle of godsforsaken nowhere. I thought about you, a lot. About what might happen when it was over. And when it _was_ over…" He grimaced. "You know the rest. Once a Blade, always a Blade."

"Caius said you'd tried to resign." My head spun and I gripped the edges of the chair.

"They wouldn't let me. It was either stay on or rot in prison. And after Red Mountain it was 'Nerevarine, go to Akavir, Nerevarine, go to Solstheim, go to Cyrodiil, dance like a good puppet for the glory of the Empire'." He sighed. "But I guess it's not like you could have resigned from the temple, either, so it's just as well."

_You don't know anything_, I wanted to tell him, and it was so like old times it made my heart ache. "We don't have to resign," I told him.

His head snapped up. "What?"

"It's Azura, Darius, not Molag Bal. People can leave. I'd have to get the permission of the High Priestess, but I'm not bound to stay. Azura wants followers who worship Her of their own free will, not slaves."

He sat back in his chair, looking shocked. "You're joking."

I shook my head. There was no rank to be stripped of if we left in peace and respect. Bound to a temple or not, it didn't matter. We didn't leave the order. We took it with us into our private lives.

_"Hell_," he muttered, rubbing his face with both hands. "Do mean to tell me if I'd…" He grimaced and didn't finish, and his expression went so dour I didn't dare do anything but change the subject.

"What about Almalexia?" I asked. "If it is my business."

He slumped forward. "There isn't enough brandy in the _world_."

"Check Caius' special cabinet. You might be surprised."

He shook his head. "I'd better not. Not when the Temple guards might tear down the door and haul me back there again." He sighed, and his thoughts seemed to turn inward, and when he spoke again his voice was very quiet. "After the fight with Dagoth Ur, after I went to the Imperial City to report to the Emperor, I started remembering things. Little pieces of memories, emotions that would come out of nowhere. Things I couldn't possibly know, feelings about people I'd never met. I thought I was going crazy for a while. Then I came to Mournhold, and it started to make sense."

"Memories from… before?" Was that even possible?

Darius nodded, tiredly. "Yeah. Not everything, not the whole life. But enough." His eyes had a haunted look to them. "Enough to be disorienting, anyway. Do you know what it's like to look in the mirror and see the wrong face? Or to hold a sword with hands that feel too small? Or to know that you're the last of your kind in the entire world, except for the ones that murdered you in the first place?"

It was rhetorical; of course I couldn't know.

"I don't remember everything," he continued, "but there are some things—important things—that I do. Dying. I remember dying." He swallowed hard. "I'd thought I was prepared for death, that I would fall in battle, not…" He shook his head, taking a shuddering breath. "Not at the hands of the people I loved. Trusted. They say dying is peaceful, at the very end. It's not. At least it wasn't for me."

He shook his head, as if to clear his thoughts. "But it's not all bad. I remember friendships, a little. I knew Vivec when he was young, before he became such a bastard. He was…" He smiled crookedly, remembering. "He was funny. I miss him, sort of, the way he used to be. Despite everything. And I remember Almalexia." His eyes went soft, thoughtful. "The first time we met. The day we got married. A hundred little moments, stupid things that people do when they're in love. We were happy, once."

He looked sadder than I'd ever seen him. "I loved her. More than life, more than anything." He picked at a loose thread on the chair, absently. "It made me blind. To what was going on. To what she was becoming. I didn't even see it coming, at the end. And I still love her," he sighed. "Which I know is… insane. But I guess, since she killed me and I killed her, we're even, you know?" His strained, odd smile didn't last. "Part of me is always going to belong to her. Which is why, seeing her there the other day… I know it's not really her, but I wished it was. It would have been easy to let myself believe it was. Just for a while." He shook his head, incredulous. "I don't know why I'm telling you this. I can't imagine it's anything you'd want to hear."

It wasn't, honestly. The words made something twist in my chest, wringing the heart out of me. I understood, suddenly, what he'd said back at Vivec, about their final battle, about her promises and what they must have been.

"I don't know what to tell you, now," he said quietly, defeated. "I still—"

Someone was working the lock. We heard it at the same time and jumped to our feet, alarmed. He reached for his sword on instinct but it wasn't at his hip, so he stepped between me and the door, waiting.

It was Caius. He came in and locked the door, looking us over with a frown. "Who died? You two look awful."

"Where were you?" I demanded.

"Once I saw the two lovebirds making eyes at each other and she started heading your way, I figured it was time to clear out. Almalexia wasn't going to let you go, and you," he glanced at me, "were going to trail after Darius like a lost puppy. If they'd decided to keep you there against your will, you'd need someone who hadn't been taken to bust you out. Or notify your next of kin, if it came to it. But when I got back to the house, there was a message for me. A lead. Do you want to hear what it is, or are you going to stand there looking daggers at me?"

"Of course," Darius said, crossing his arms.

"Ever been to Necrom?" We shook our heads. "There's a sanctuary there, for the ill and the mad. It's not on any official records, not on the maps, nothing. There's a woman who's there because she believes she's Almalexia, and apparently looks like her, too. According to my source she's been there more than a hundred years. So now we've got _two_ women who are not Almalexia, who look like they are and believe that they are." When he smiled, the expression was sharp. "I don't think it's coincidence. Feel like a little trip?"

-oOo-

We left nearly immediately for the city gates. "It's a two-day ride by carriage to Necrom. Did you see the papers?"

"We didn't get one. We didn't leave the house," I said.

Caius laughed. "Just as well, I suppose. All they're talking about is a particular scene between the Nerevarine and his long-lost love. Quite touching. They've even got a little artist's rendition of it, though I don't think they did you justice, Darius. If it's not the talk of Vivec by now, it will be soon."

Darius didn't say anything, just seemed to turn inward, looking at the ground.

"Not so much as a flicker, eh?" Caius said. "And you. That was quite some temper tantrum, I hear."

"It wasn't a tantrum," I argued. "And how would you know about _that_, anyway? You'd turned tail by then."

"The walls have ears. A little gold in the right hands, and they'll give up all their secrets. Wish I could have seen her face when you did it." His grin was brief and not particularly friendly.

There were a larger number of guards than usual at the city gates. When we approached, a pair of them stepped forward to block our path. "We're under orders that you're not to leave the city, sera," one of them said to Darius.

"On whose authority?" Caius demanded, immediately irate.

"Almalexia's authority," the guard answered, impassive. Darius looked at me, then Caius, unsure.

After a moment, Caius backed down, and turned back for the road. "Right. Come on," he told us, voice tight. "Just forget it."

He didn't forget it, of course. As soon as we were back in the house, he threw off his robe, striding to the kitchen and banging around, irritated. "Damn it all. Guess the honeymoon's over, eh lad?" He eyed Darius, who just sat down. Caius made a face. "I liked you better when you punched back."

"Darius might not be able to leave the city, but I can," I said, stepping into the empty space where Darius' response should have been. "They didn't mention any restrictions on me. If anything, she'd probably be glad to see me go."

Caius nodded, thinking.

"You're not going to Necrom alone," Darius said tiredly.

I ignored him. "If she's keeping him here, I think she's got plans for him. He'll need someone to watch his back, so you should stay."

"Sounds reasonable." Caius rubbed his chin.

"Are you even listening to me?" Darius demanded. "It's two days there, two days back, and probably more, traveling in winter. And then what, when you get there? What if you get followed? Or stopped? Or daedra attack the city? You're not a warrior and you're not a spy. You're not going to Necrom and that's final."

I turned away from him, to Caius. "Can we have a carriage ready in the morning? It'll give me a night to prepare. And you can brief me on what I need to know."

Caius nodded in approval, seizing on the solution and already walking to the door. "I'll arrange it."

I started upstairs, quickly, but Darius was faster. He was out of his chair and at the staircase in one fluid motion, seizing my arm and spinning me around. "Are you out of your mind?" he demanded, furious. "You are not going to Necrom."

"Yes. I am," I snapped back, on a rush of adrenaline and indignation. "Let me go." I tried to shake him off, and couldn't.

"Stop it. You could be killed out there. I'm not letting you go."

_You already did_, I wanted to shout. "It's my choice to make," I told him, more steadily than I felt. "I'm not a Blade. I'm not under your command. I was instructed to help, and that's what I'm doing."

His hand dropped and he looked like I'd kicked him. "Take Caius, then, at least. Or let him go, and you stay here."

"No. He needs to be here. Almalexia's in Mournhold, and we know Helseth might try to assassinate her. If anything happens, he needs to be here to deal with it and to protect you. But someone's got to go to Necrom."

He didn't answer, and when he turned away I ran to my room, feeling guilty for reasons I didn't want to think about.


	14. Chapter 14

Caius and I stayed up late into the night going exhaustively over everything he thought I might need to know for the mission to Necrom until I could recite it back to him almost verbatim. There was a lot to take into consideration, things that I would never have thought of. I'd never done reconnaissance, much less alone, and as the night wore on I started to get anxious. I'd volunteered quickly enough, but now that I was staring at lists of contingency plans—what to do if this goes wrong, what to do then if _that_ doesn't work, and if everything else fails, how to go to ground—the seriousness of the situation was beginning to set in.

At half past three, all the words were beginning to run together and Caius told me to get to sleep. I'd protested at first that I had a long carriage ride ahead of me and could sleep then, but he shook his head. "For all we know, Almalexia will have guards waiting to ambush you two miles out of the city. You'll need your wits about you."

Darius had been in his room with the door closed ever since we'd argued. Sulking, I thought uncharitably. Now that it was daylight again, Caius sat at the table, quizzing me on the specifics of our plan while I tucked little bundles of food into my pack. There wasn't much between Mournhold and Necrom, he'd told me, so I was trying to be well-prepared.

"And if they tell you that our duplicate Almalexia can't have visitors?" he asked.

"They can't tell me no if they don't know I'm there," I recited. Trick question, and I wasn't still sleepy enough to fall for it. The plan was to get into Necrom proper, into the Tribunal temple and into the sanctuary inside, and then sneak in under invisibility spells. The Tribunal priests wouldn't know I was there; I could get the information I needed from the Almalexia at the sanctuary, and then sneak back out. And if she said anything about it later, well… she _was_ at a sanctuary for the ill and the mad, after all, and I didn't intend to leave any proof.

"Good. Don't forget to take into account—" He stopped as Darius walked in.

"Here," said Darius without preamble. "Take this." He took my hand, opened it, and dropped something small on my palm.

A ring. And not just any ring: Moon-and-Star. I looked up at him, astonished. "I can't take this." It had been forged for him by the Dwemer, blessed by Azura herself. It was his, more than anything in the world.

"I want you to. Necrom is Indoril territory, and like it or not they'll answer to me. If anyone stops you, show them the ring and tell them you come in my name. They should give you passage." He looked bleak.

I looked down at it. "Thank you."

"Don't put it on," he warned. "It _will_ kill you. But it might ease the way, and I want you to take it with you when you go."

"I will." I didn't know what else to say. Last night had ended badly. The last few days, actually, seemed to have gone badly, and I didn't want to go to Necrom with unfinished business still hanging between us.

He put a hand on my shoulder, companionably, and gave a weak smile that didn't make it to his eyes. "Be careful, would you? I think you're probably the only friend I have." He patted my shoulder, gave the same odd, weak smile, and headed for the other room. I leaned against the counter heavily, staring after him. At the table, Caius shook his head but said nothing.

"I have… things. To pack," I faltered. "In my room."

I hurried up the stairs before Caius could see me struggle to stay composed.

I really didn't need to pack anything else. In the absence of anything to do I wandered around my room idly, trailing a finger in the dust on the dresser, looking out the window. Trying not to think about _friends_; trying not to think at all.

"You shouldn't take it too hard." Caius leaned against the doorframe, his head cocked to the side. "The situation we're in puts unusual pressures on us all. And young men don't generally know how to talk to women."

"And you do?" I glanced at him, peevish.

"Yes," he said simply.

I shook my head unhappily. Damn Almalexia. And Darius, for that matter. And damn _me_, too, for being such a fool. And now I was going to Necrom for him? _For the mission_, my mind insisted, trying to detach itself from the idea of him. For Morrowind, if I have to. The old Redoran values of duty and honor, knocking at my brain.

It was still a bitterly miserable thought. I wanted, abruptly, to go back to the temple. I was homesick for Vvardenfell, for the security and the familiar routines that were so easy to fall into. Not this ever-shifting world with so few answers.

Caius made a noise like a quiet laugh and approached to put his arms around my shoulders holding me loosely. "What you're doing is important," he told me, "Even for the ungrateful idiots among us. Do be careful."

I grimaced, feeling stupid, and gave up, leaning into him and holding on in return. It was satisfying, almost painfully so, to hold onto someone whose heart beat steadily beneath my ear, who was present and real and here instead of half-gone already pining for the idea of a dead wife and a dead age.

"You're good at this," I accused, though it came out a sullen mumble.

"I like to think so," he laughed, and I felt it against my cheek.

"Am I interrupting something?" Darius stood in the doorway, arms crossed and eyes dark.

"Not at all," Caius said smoothly, not moving an inch. "Just some pre-travel worries. You'll understand that she'd be hesitant to leave you in Mournhold, given the situation." Darius frowned.

"Thank you, Caius," I said, and stepped out of his arms. It was only a trick, I knew, probably some long-practiced manipulation. Still, I did feel a little better.

Darius shook his head, looking at me. "I've got to talk to you." He scowled at Caius. "In private."

Caius shrugged and sauntered out. Once he was gone, Darius shut the door firmly behind him and glared at me before he paced away. I leaned back against the door as I waited, watching him grope for words. I was numb, suddenly, almost indifferent. His agitation couldn't distress me, couldn't make me feel anything.

He stalked back over and leaned close, trapping me between him and the door. "I thought I told you to be careful about him," he whispered urgently.

"You did."

"So what was _that_?"

I made my voice as neutral as possible. "What was what?"

"You know perfectly well. You're not…"

I watched him struggle for words, unmoved. I did know perfectly well, just as I knew what he was getting at, but if I'd had to watch him kiss Almalexia and listen to him declare his love for her while I sat there and tried hard to understand, he could finish his own damn sentences. Let him squirm. I didn't have the mercy in me to let him off the hook.

It occurred to me that Brennan would not approve. "I'm leaving for Necrom in half an hour," I told him. "If you've got something to say, you'd best say it now."

He scowled. "Are you involved with Caius?"

I rolled my eyes. "No."

"Good."

I looked up, indignant, to ask 'what the hell does it matter to you?' but he leaned in and kissed me and I was so stunned for a moment I couldn't respond. What was this, he'd started kissing people and couldn't stop? Almalexia, then me, and who next? Anger and incredulity warred inside me, and I couldn't figure out whether to pull him closer or blast him across the room, but he took the last step between us blindly and I kissed him back without thinking as he pressed against me. I had wanted this for years—years!—and now I had it, but under such miserable circumstances I could have screamed.

Darius pulled back abruptly, his eyes searching my face. "If I'd asked you after Red Mountain to come with me—to leave the temple—would you have done it?" he asked, voice ragged.

Oh, _damn_. "Yes," I whispered, shocked to honesty. "I would have done it, then." The words _but not now_ hung in the air, unspoken.

This was _friends_? I slipped out of his hands and was out the door before he could ask anything else or kiss me again, and I spent the last minutes before leaving for Necrom in Caius' room, alone, with the door locked and my head in my hands.

-oOo-

Alone, I didn't have any trouble getting out the city gates and into the carriage Caius had contracted. The grizzled driver spoke very little and then mostly in grunts, so most of the ride passed in silence. It gave me plenty of time to think.

Mostly I tried to concentrate on the immediate future. I didn't know how difficult getting in to the sanctuary would turn out to be, but I didn't figure it would be easy. I hadn't taken Caius' notes with me in case I was stopped or searched, and so I ran what I'd memorized over and over in my head. Get to Necrom, find the main temple, search for the sanctuary inside it, find Almalexia. Get her to talk. Get out of the sanctuary, the temple, the city. Get back to Mournhold. _Don't_ get caught.

That last point seemed likely to be the hardest, but everything depended on it.

Getting into Necrom wasn't hard. It was a bigger city than I'd thought, and walking in I was just another traveler, anonymous in the crowd. The temple dominated the city, a great dome topped by a spire another hundred feet tall like a spear aimed at the heavens. Vvardenfell was brown and Mournhold green, but Necrom was like nothing I'd seen before. Every building was the stark white of sun-bleached bones. Collectively, they looked like an old skeleton rising from the plain.

I followed the roads to the middle of the city, towards the main temple, one pilgrim in a sea of faithful. When I was close, I ducked into an alleyway, and once I was in the shadows, I cast a spell and felt myself disappear from sight.

It was an odd thing, to be invisible. It never failed to be disorienting to look down and see nothingness where my body ought to be. But I had done it at Red Mountain, pressed tightly against the wall of Dagoth Ur and nearly out of my mind with fear. If I had done it then, with ashes in my eyes and corprus-ridden monsters lumbering by close enough to touch, I could certainly do it now. I wedged my pack behind a bush in an alley, out of the way, hoping it would be there when I returned.

When I returned to the road I fell into step behind a trio of Dunmer heading for the temple doors. No one seemed to notice that the door swung open a beat longer than it should have.

The interior was rather sparse, as most Tribunal temples were, with two long hallways stretching out at angles from the narthex, but I could see nothing to indicate the direction of any kind of sanctuary. After some time and a few subtle spells to keep me out of sight, I noticed that the older priests seemed to be going down the eastern hall, and the pilgrims and youngest priests going west. Checking to make sure I wouldn't be in the way, I slipped out of my corner and made my way east. There were doorless rooms on either side of the hall, some full of altars, others apparently dormitories. The hallway ended at a large curved stairwell, stretching up into the dome and down into darkness.

Where she would be, I couldn't tell. Caius had only known she was in here somewhere. I gambled, and went down, and when downstairs proved to be a dead-end storage area, climbed back up. The long hallway on the second floor was lined with doors, closed doors, with no windows. _Damn_.

I had no desire to start opening doors at random. I cast a detection spell, then immediately another invisibility spell, and checked again. No one had seen. I let out a quiet breath in relief, following the purple glow that bloomed before my eyes, walking as quietly as I could. I turned the corner where the spell had indicated life, but it was only a pair of young priests, reading in some type of common room. I frowned but kept on, quiet as a shadow through hallways and up stairs, ever mindful of the way back to the front door in case I had to make a sudden exit. But there was nothing.

I made my way back down the stairs, carefully, taking a sip of potion from one of my flasks. It was edging on into afternoon, now, and I was getting frustrated. The east wing hadn't had anything useful, and the west wing was busy. I could see altars down there and several ordinators, and almost everyone who wasn't in priests' robes headed that direction. But I didn't know how I'd be able to get down the hall without touching anyone. People milled in and out of rooms, stopping to talk in the middle of the hallway, moving in unpredictable patterns. I cringed at the thought of making my way down there, wondering if I could do it without bumping into anyone. _Probably not_.

I sighed internally, flattening myself against the wall and resigning myself to wait. I was good at it, at least. It takes a good deal of patience to watch the skies. At the end of my time as a novice, I'd had to sit without moving and observe an entire day, from one dawn to the next. _The pieces only reveal their secrets within the context of the whole_, I was told, and so I had waited, and watched.

I did the same now, watching the ebb and flow of people, renewing the spell to keep me hidden when I had to. If nothing else, I thought, I could wait until midnight when most everyone would be gone, and the priests asleep.

I didn't have to wait that long. It was nearly mid-afternoon when a priest walked through the front doors, up to the young priest at a desk a little distance from me. The one at the desk looked up, then glanced around, as though to make sure no one was listening. "Any sign of the Nerevarine?" he asked quietly.

_That_ got my attention. _Listen to the underlings, the lowest ranked, what they gossip about_, Caius had said. _They don't know better than to chatter. _

"Not a sign," said the one who'd walked in. "Five carriages from Mournhold today and not a one with him on it. It was supposed to be today, wasn't it?"

"This morning, I think," the other one replied. "He ought to come today, though. I hope so, anyway."

"The ordinators getting restless?"

"Yes." He gave a short laugh. "They're not happy at having to wait around all day. But it can't be much longer. The Master said that he'd got the news. He'll come. And when he does…"

_It's a trap_, I realized with a shiver of fear, _with Almalexia for the bait and the ordinators as the hook. _A trap that Darius was supposed to have walked into. _Would_ have walked into, if we'd all been able to leave the city together. But that meant the duplicate Almalexia might not even be here. She might not even exist at all. The sanctuary itself might have been a lie. The prospect made my heart sink.

"Has she calmed down any?" asked the one who'd walked in. "When I left she was throwing things again." She? I hadn't seen any priestesses.

"As far as I know. I don't know why the Master doesn't just lock her in the basement. It would be less trouble." He bit a fingernail, looking irritated.

"I think it's one of the conditions of the punishment. Looking out at the city, you know, always seeing but never touching." _Looking out at the city…upstairs then_, I thought, _somewhere high_.

"I've got to get back to the road to keep watch." The one at the desk nodded, bored, and turned back to his papers.

I rested against the wall, mulling over the new information and waiting, until there was a lull in activity, and people started trickling out of the temple. As good a time as any to make my move.

I walked down the western hall, then, carefully avoiding the last few people lingering around the altars. I climbed the staircase, slipping up into the higher floors. The second floor was empty, and my detection spells revealed nothing. I climbed higher and saw an acolyte close and bolt a door, carrying a tray in one arm. I stepped well aside to let him pass, wondering.

When the sound of his footsteps faded downstairs, I cast another detection spell, just to be sure. It revealed only one person, motionless in the room before me. There was no window on the door, and it was bolted from the outside… one person didn't constitute a 'sanctuary,' but I was running out of options.

I crept to the door, listening carefully for the sound of anyone coming, but the floor seemed to be abandoned. I eased the bolt free, as quietly as I could, inched the door open and slipped inside.

An Altmer woman of middle age sat in a chair, facing the wall. She was gaunt as bones, her spidery hands splayed across her thighs as she stared, dead-eyed, at nothing. Her skin might have been golden, once; her hair, reddish, but now she was faded like an old painting, sallow and wan.

"Almalexia," I whispered. Her head jerked around like a stringed puppet's, wobbling on her gristly neck. Her eyes were wide, staring, and as they cleared and focused on me she grinned, a death's-head smile that showed all her teeth as she hissed like an angry daedroth.

I'd thought she was here because she believed herself to be Almalexia, but now, with her uncoiling from her seat and moving towards me in little jerky steps, I knew: she was utterly, totally mad.


	15. Chapter 15

She stopped a couple of feet away from me, her golden eyes taking me in. Finally they fell on the star at my throat. "Are you here to kill me?" she rasped, staring at my pendant.

"No." I pushed to door to, carefully, not wanting to accidentally lock myself in.

She turned inelegantly, leaning on the top of a chair for balance. "Then go away."

I took a step towards her, trying to think. "I can't leave. You're the only one that can help me."

She stilled. "I see no reason to help you." She turned back, unsteadily, looking down at me with an expression of distaste. "I'm a goddess. You should be crawling."

"I am not one of yours," I said, uncertainly.

She sat down gracelessly on the floor, knees and elbows jutting out at angles. "Then go away."

I took another step and she growled, low in her throat like an angry guar and eyes glinting with malice. This was… I hadn't expected this. I wished Caius was here. He'd know what to say, what to do. I crouched lightly, putting myself at her eye level. "Why are you here? What happened to you?"

Her eyes had gone cloudy again, unfocused, and she said nothing. I rocked forward onto my hands, getting closer. "Were you born here?" I pressed. "Why do they keep you locked away?"

"You know nothing," she said hollowly.

"Then teach me. Instruct me," I insisted.

Her eyes cleared, narrowing at me, suspicious. "You wish to learn?"

"Yes." _Please let this work_.

Her eyes fell on my pendant again. "You are not one of mine."

"I'm not," I agreed. "But seeking wisdom from a single source is the mistake of a child. I come willing to learn."

Her lips drew back from her teeth, and it looked nothing like a smile. "You will not speak to me of children."

I hesitated. "Why?"

She ignored me, turning inward, her face going slack and eyes vacant. She rocked herself, back and forth like a reed in the wind, shutting me out.

_If one thing doesn't work_, Caius had said, _switch tactics. Don't waste time on what doesn't work. _I could feel the seconds ticking by, and wondered how long it would be before someone came back up here, noticed the door ajar, and caught me. "Is it true you're the one who murdered Vivec?" I whispered.

Her eyes snapped to me, suddenly clear and alert. "He's _dead_?"

"By your hand, I'm told, as he lay with you," I lied. "All of Mournhold knows you for a murderess."

She trembled, tears welling in her eyes as she stared down at her hands. "No. I didn't… did I? Could I have… would that… no!" she wailed. She looked at me, feverish, as tears welled in her eyes and spilled over. "It's a lie. I didn't do it. I was here! You have to tell them!"

"If you want me to clear your name you're going to have to tell me the whole truth," I said. "And _quickly_." She cried, nodding her head and not bothering to wipe her tears away. I felt a pang of guilt but pressed on anyway. "How long have you been here?"

"I don't remember," she sniffled miserably.

"Were you always here?"

"No." She looked at my pendant. "You're not one of mine."

"Where were you before?" She shook her head, staring vacantly at the wall. "Almalexia!" I hissed. "Where were you before?"

"I don't know. I want to go back."

"Back where?"

"The temple by the sea."

I knew of no temples by the sea except for my own, and I didn't think she'd been there. I _hoped_ she hadn't been there. "When they brought you here, from there," I began, thinking hard, "how did you come? Was it by boat? Or carriage?"

"Boat," she whispered. "We sailed to the mainland, and then went by carriage. They were taking me to Mournhold to reclaim my rightful place. But they brought me here, instead. They locked me… I've never been out." Her eyes were blank, her whole posture slumped and defeated. "They told me I was a blasphemer," she whispered. "They don't know… they don't remember. I'm their goddess." Her head swiveled around unsteadily and her eyes rested on me. "I _am_ a goddess," she repeated querulously. "You should be crawling."

"Who brought you here?" I asked. She shook her head, ignoring me. "Almalexia," I warned.

"The temple," she said distantly. "The priests. Long ago."

I thought quickly. "What's this about children?"

She glared at me, seething in hatred. "I'm not telling _you_."

"The whole truth, now, or I'll go back to the Nerevarine and tell him you confessed," I pressed.

She grimaced scornfully. "You're lying. Nerevar would have nothing to do with _you_."

I held up Moon-and-Star, tied to my wrist by a length of cord, and it shone softly in the light. She stared at it, transfixed. "That's a fake," she murmured distantly. "It's not real. You're not real."

"I'm real enough," I said. "And if you're so sure Moon-and-Star's a fake, you could always try it on."

She shuddered. "I had daughters," she whispered, never taking her eyes off the ring. "They took them from me as soon as I bore them."

"The priests?" She nodded heavily. "Why?" I demanded.

She said nothing, trembling violently. "Almalexia," I threatened, "if you don't tell me…"

"I don't _know!"_ she screamed, sobbing and wrapping her bony arms around herself.

Damn! The whole _temple_ had to have heard that. Time to go. I got quickly to my feet, heading for the door, but a spidery hand caught my shirt and pulled, clutching at me. "Take me with you," she pleaded, pulling herself up. "Don't let them keep me here, you can't leave me here with them. I haven't done anything wrong. Please, _please_ take me with you—"

"I can't," I whispered, horrified. It was wrong to leave her here, imprisoned, but if I let her go they'd know someone had been here. She had to stay.

The younger Almalexia at the temple had been virtually powerless, but as the expression on this woman's face darkened swiftly from begging to fury, I felt the warning tingle of destructive magicka build in the room. "I'll kill you," she hissed, her eyes glittering with hatred. "If I can't leave, neither will you."

Magicka or no, I was younger and stronger, and I shoved her off me with all my strength, flinging her bodily across the little room. She landed in a heap, looking like a broken doll and screeching hellishly in outrage. I gave her one last glance before I jerked the door open and left the room, throwing the bolt home with a terrible clank, imprisoning her again. I heard footsteps on the stairs and cast a spell, invisible, willing myself to breathe quietly instead of panting in fear.

It took all of my control not to sprint away from the temple as fast as I could, heedless of the consequences.

-oOo-

My pack was where I'd left it, and though I stayed on nervous alert all the way down the streets leading to the carriage, there were no alarms or any indications I was being looked for. The driver was ready and waiting, and before sundown I was rolling along on the road back to Mournhold, relieved but deeply unsettled.

I didn't know if I had learned enough. I had an idea of where the temple she spoke of might be, provided it truly existed. There was an archipelago in the Padomaic Ocean, some ways off the coast of Morrowind in Telvanni territory. The islands were remote and generally unvisited, and it could be a good place to hide something. But the business about children bothered me. I didn't know what to make of it, didn't know if they were real or not. I doubted they'd allow her a lover, and the thought of her being forced at the hands of a priest made me sick to my stomach.

I decided to reserve judgment for now and see what Caius had to say about it.

It was already dark when the carriage approached Mournhold again. I could see the lights of the city out the window, torches burning brightly at the gates a mile or so off.

The carriage swayed a little, but the driver kept on, and after a moment the door swung open, soundlessly. Immediately alarmed, I pushed myself back to the furthest corner of the carriage, but Caius leaned inside, a finger to his lips. _Let's go_, he mouthed silently. He looked terrible, mud-streaked and disheveled with bloodshot eyes.

_Why?_ I mouthed back.

He shook his head. _Now_. He disappeared from sight.

I picked up my pack and looked outside. He'd stepped off the railing and was walking in the dark at the side of the carriage. He held out a hand, and I took it, slipping a little in the mud as I stepped down. He sank to the ground and pulled me down beside him to lie flat on our bellies as we watched the carriage roll away.

After half a minute, I whispered, "What's going on? Where's Darius?"

He shook his head. "The whole thing's gone to hell. I'll explain when we're somewhere safe. We can't be seen."

My heart pounded. "What? Why?"

He got to his feet, helping me up. "Later. I've got a rough sort of shelter set up, in the ruins of the old city. There's a way in, but it's not pretty. When was the last time you ate?"

"Hours ago," I answered, bewildered.

"Good," he said tiredly. "Best to do this on an empty stomach."

-oOo-

By _this_, Caius meant _crawl through a sewer_. There was a loose grate he led me to that we'd had to crawl through on our hands and knees for ten yards or so before the tunnel became tall enough to stand up in. The smell was beyond imagining, and as soon as we came to cleaner running water we scrubbed off the muck as best as we could.

We walked for a while in quiet through a labyrinthine set of turns. I couldn't keep track of the way back out, and after a while I stopped trying and just followed Caius. Once the plain stone gave way to wide mosaic walkways and I knew we were in the ruins of Old Mournhold, I thought we'd be safe enough. "What's going on?"

He seemed satisfied enough of privacy, and rubbed at his eyes, though from his expression he immediately regretted it, as dirty as his hands were. He sighed, exhausted. "Helseth's dead. Assassinated, three days ago. And Barenziah, too."

I stopped, incredulous with shock. "What?" Murdered… and Morrowind with no king? No queen? That just left Vivec… and Almalexia. I shuddered internally at the thought.

"No, don't stop here," he chided. "That would be more than bad enough, but it gets worse."

Where had I heard that before? And where was Darius? I fell into step beside him, moving automatically in spite of my sudden chill of dread. "Worse how, exactly?"

Caius wouldn't look at me. "Word's been spread that Darius did it. He didn't, but you and I look to be the only ones who know that. It's an open secret that Helseth tried to kill him before, so there's no lack of motive, and the general public seems to be buying it. How much, I don't know, but the whole city's gone mad over the loss of Barenziah. Almalexia's set herself up at the palace, and Darius is being held prisoner there. You and I have been named co-conspirators, and there's a bounty on each of our heads big enough to buy Elsweyr twice over. She seems particularly interested in getting her hands on you." He grimaced. "I imagine you can guess why."

I was numb with shock, and walked on in a daze.

"I'll tell you the rest. Fill you in on the details later. But I haven't slept in three days and I'm about at the end of my rope. I've got to lie down before I drop dead."

_One thing at a time_, I told myself, focusing on the concrete to keep my mind from spinning out of control in panic. _Get_ _safe. Let him rest. Get the details. Save Darius._

"Almost there," he said, relieved, as we came into an enormous cavern. He went off to one side, climbing a rope ladder that led to a ledge perilously high above, and despite my misgivings about the ladder's sturdiness, I followed. Not long after that we came to a ruined hall, where Caius promptly collapsed onto a bedroll and closed his eyes. "We should be safe here, for now," he told me. "But it's probably best to rest in shifts."

"I'll keep watch," I said quickly. "You sleep."

I didn't have to tell him twice. It wasn't more than a minute before his breathing deepened and slowed, leaving me awake in the ruined hall, alone with my fear.


	16. Chapter 16

It was much, much later when Caius finally stirred. Down deep underground, the passage of time was hard to gauge, but I was dimly aware of sunrise when it happened and hours had passed since then. I knew if I just sat there and watched him sleep I'd drop off myself, so after a while I'd roused myself and began looking around the hall. Someone had lived here, not too long ago. Some of the potions in the chests were still fresh.

I had just come back from the nearby branch of the underground river when Caius sat up, holding his head. He opened one eye, looking over at me. "I don't suppose you've trained as a healer, have you?"

"Just a little," I answered. "Are you hurt?"

"My head." I knelt behind him and putting my fingers on his scalp, trying to be gentle. There was a swollen knot and a livid purple bruise under his hair, behind his ear.

"What happened?" I asked. The knot was bad, but the damage didn't seem to extend down too far. I murmured a spell and watched cool blue light wash over the area, fading the bruise before my eyes.

He sighed in relief. "Took a fall. A bit longer than I expected." He stretched, grimacing. "Do you have anything to eat?"

I retrieved my pack, pulling out apples and bread. "Thanks," he said, and picked up the conversation from before as though it had been moments instead of hours ago. "Gnisis was attacked. I don't know when exactly; we got the news the day you left. It was a massacre, apparently, but the details are a bit sketchy. By Nords, according to the report. There were a couple of riots after that. Some Imperials killed in Vivec, some others driven out of Sadrith Mora by force. There's a lot of angry Dunmer on Vvardenfell."

I sat down across from him, stunned. He held out an apple. "Have you eaten?"

I shook my head. "I'm not hungry." It seemed bizarre to think about food _now_, with so much going on. He pressed it into my hand anyway. "Keep your strength up. You'll need it. There's also news that more of these things—they're calling them Oblivion gates—are opening up around major cities. In Cyrodiil, mostly, but in the provinces, too. Elsweyr's been hit particularly hard; their main port's been jerked to a standstill. No trade, no money… things are getting rough down there. Word is that there've been a number of appeals to Ocato for more Legion troops all over, but he's denied them all. Says the troops need to stay where they are. And in truth, they may be fine where they are, but the denials have made a lot of people angry. Influential people, the kind Ocato can't really afford to have as adversaries. It's a mess."

I ate my apple without tasting it, thinking. "Did the Temple kill Helseth and Barenziah?"

"I don't know," he admitted. "It's possible. Could have been the Temple, could have been the Dark Brotherhood, could have been some third party we don't know about. Vivec, maybe. The Telvanni. Or Dres. We don't know."

"How long did it take Almalexia to set herself up at the palace?"

"Not long." He shook his head. "As soon as the news got out that Barenziah was dead Mournhold went crazy. She moved into the palace and had the guards institute martial law for the sake of 'restoring order.' A hundred drakes says she never steps aside for a new king."

I thought for a moment. "Has there been any word from the Elder Council on who might take the throne?"

"I doubt that they've even been able to get word of the murders to the Imperial City yet. Even then, deciding in committee who's going to rule Morrowind is going to take a long time. Without an Emperor to make the decision, there could be years of debate."

"Which leaves Almalexia more time to strengthen her claim to Morrowind," I mused.

"Exactly. And with the Oblivion gates everywhere in Cyrodiil, you can bet Morrowind will be pretty low down the list of Ocato's priorities."

I tried to put it together. "And Darius is being held prisoner at the palace?"

"Yes."

"Are you…" I began, wincing. I didn't want to think about it, but given what Darius had told me about Almalexia—and himself—I had to wonder. "Are you sure he's a prisoner?" I managed. "He may not—"

"Yes. I'm sure. He fought like a lion when they came for him. Two dozen armed guards against the two of us, unarmed, and he still managed to hurt a couple of them before they hauled him away. If he wanted to be there with her he'd have gone quietly, or already been there in the first place. I know what you're thinking," he said sternly. "Darius explained what was going on. But you're selling him short. He's a prisoner there, and the only bright spot in all this is that Almalexia wants him alive. If not for that, he'd be dead by now."

I thought for a while, abashed. "If everyone thinks he's guilty of murder, what's she doing about it?"

"Right now he's just being detained. I heard a rumor—_just_ a rumor, mind—that as long as he's there, he's under her protection. But if he gets outside the palace, the charges will be formal, and he'll be at the mercy of the law and the mob. Neither of which he'd be likely to survive. I think, if I had to guess, that she's wanting to set herself up as ruler of Morrowind, with him as her co-regent."

"Just like old times," I managed.

Caius chewed slowly, and swallowed. "I suppose so. That's assuming her ambitions aren't aiming any higher. The Imperial throne does happen to be vacant at the moment. It might make a tempting target for an ambitious young goddess. Why settle for Morrowind when you could have the whole of Tamriel?"

"This is _bad_," I moaned, putting my head in my hands.

He gave a short, rueful laugh. "Yes, I think that about sums it up."

"Do you have a plan?" I asked, looking up at him.

"No." He rubbed at the stubble on his chin, frowning. "Objectives, but no plan. Get Darius out of there. Get the hell out of Mournhold. That's about as far as it goes for the moment."

"Do you think," I began, cringing at the thought, "that Darius might be safer as a prisoner at the palace than otherwise? If he's there… you said it yourself, she wants him alive."

"I thought of that," he said. "But Darius isn't one to take being caged up particularly well. Either we help get him out of there or he'll try to break out himself, and he'll be alone in Mournhold. If he doesn't get killed in the escape attempt." He shook his head. "I know Darius isn't the biggest fan of the Blades and I'm not sure what he may have told you, but we don't leave our own behind."

I thought it over in silence while he ate, and then got to his feet. "First, I have to get some information. Sleep, if you can. You should be safe enough here. I'll be back."

-oOo-

I woke up with a jerk, going from sleeping to sitting straight up in less than a second, not remembering at first where I was. It came back slowly: underground, with Darius somewhere up there, imprisoned, and Almalexia out for my blood. I rubbed at my eyes, wishing for a deep cup of strong tea. Or brandy. Brandy would do just fine. People had taken up drinking over less, surely.

Caius was sitting cross-legged on the ground some distance away, tucking in to something with great relish. "What are you eating?" I said sleepily before I put a hand to my mouth to cover a jaw-cracking yawn.

He didn't even look up. "Pie," he said around a mouthful, quickly licking a finger clean.

"Where in the world did you get pie?"

"Miranda." He swallowed. "Left it on my doorstep with a note. Saw her do it earlier when I went up to see what the guards were doing." He grinned. "Apparently she finds me even more attractive as a dangerous criminal." He kept eating, more neatly and efficiently than I'd ever have thought someone could eat pie with their fingers.

"And you're not the least bit concerned that it could have been poisoned?" I was too much my mother's daughter to discount the idea of something nasty being slipped in there. Sweetness will disguise a great deal of other tastes, and a pie would be an easy thing to poison.

He shook his head. "It was Miranda. She doesn't want me dead; she wants me in bed with her. Can't do _that_ if I'm six feet under."

"Unless she's into that sort of thing," I pointed out, stretching.

He stopped eating and glared over at me. "Do you always joke about necrophilia in the morning?"

I shrugged, but the weak humor didn't last.

"We have a bit of a lead," he told me.

"Oh?"

"What's the first rule of warfare?" he asked, picking up his pie again.

"'All warfare is based on deception,'" I recited automatically. "Is this _really_ a good time for a lesson?"

He ignored my protest. "That's the basic principle of warfare. The first rule is know your enemy."

_That's simple_, I thought. "Almalexia."

"Wrong. Our enemy is everything that stands between us and freedom. So our enemy is Almalexia, but it's also every guard in the city, anyone that might find us out and report us, and the citizens of Mournhold themselves if they get in our way." He began eating again.

"I don't know why we don't sneak in there and take him," I said. "Give me enough restorative potion and I can keep all three of us invisible for hours."

"And it would only take one guard with a life detection enchantment to find you out and unravel the whole thing," he said pointedly. "We're not going to stroll in there blindly and it's not something we're going to get more than one chance at. If we're going to get Darius out of there, we've got to know precisely what we're going up against."

I swallowed any further protests. "I hope that has something to do with your lead."

"It does indeed. You know the enchanter who created that pretty little star of yours? He's the one who enchants weapons and armor for both the palace and the temple. If we know what specific enchantments we'll be up against, it'll be easier for us to get in there and know what attacks to use. If we have to attack."

I mulled that over. "How do we get that information? It's not going to be the sort of thing he'd just tell you."

"No," he agreed, "and even if he did, he'd just run straight to the palace and let them know someone was asking. We're going to have to get it from him without him knowing. Fortunately for us, he takes obsessive notes about his creations, so the information we need should be in his shop. Unfortunately for us, he almost never leaves his shop. So we've got to lure him out."

"How?" He was enchanter; maybe we could dangle a soul gem on a thread and lead him off?

Caius laughed, an oddly tight sound. "Our enchanter is an Altmer, and a history buff. Rather deeply devoted to Ayleid history, from what I hear, particularly the time just before the Cyrodiilic slave revolts. Fancies himself a descendant of a superior race, and thinks humans—particularly Imperials—belong under the rightful authority of the Altmer. It's not an unheard-of attitude; I've run into his kind before."

If there was a point, I wasn't getting it. I just looked at him, confused.

"This one has a sort of fascination with Imperial women," he clarified. "A rather… sordid fascination."

I caught on, and wished I hadn't. "That's… sort of disturbing," I managed.

"Maybe, but it's also useful, and for us that's all that matters. An Imperial woman could lure him out of his shop long enough for me to get to his notes and find out what we need to know."

"So what do we do?" I asked. "There's hardly a surplus of Imperial women running around Old Mournhold. And it's not as though we could recruit from up there."

"We don't have to," Caius said, and tossed me a bottle of dye. "You'll do in a pinch. Go darken your hair. You're the bait."


	17. Chapter 17

My mother was a beautiful woman, petite and delicate with almost elfin features, and no one would ever mistake her for an Imperial. But I never had her delicacy. _Which means this is your fault, _I thought murderously at my unknown likely-Breton father, squinting to keep the dye from dripping into my eyes as I scrubbed it out of my hair.

You could pass for Cyrodiilic, if you have to, Darius had said. Four days he'd been in the palace with Almalexia, and if he'd made an attempt to leave, Caius hadn't heard about it. The thought made my insides twist in fear and less pleasant things.

It was easier to be angry than to dwell on what Darius might be doing. Or what Almalexia might be doing to him. _Or with him_, something whispered in my mind, traitorous and cold.

I came back into the hall, fluffing my hair dry. "Does it look right?" I asked Caius, who was writing something at the table.

"I'm sure it's fine," he said absently, not looking.

"There's no mirror down here," I said, a little impatient. "So if I missed a spot or it looks ridiculous, I'm not going to know unless you tell me, and this was _your_ idea."

"It's," he looked up, and stopped. "No. You don't look ridiculous. Have a seat." I sat down in the chair across from him. "Tell me what happened at Necrom."

"Oh, it was lovely," I grimaced. "Ran into Almalexia and we had the best afternoon having tea and sweetrolls."

He didn't even look up. "Try that again, without the attitude."

"Did you know it was a trap?" I asked, irritated. "They leaked the information on purpose. Darius was supposed to come to Necrom, and they had ordinators waiting in the temple to take him prisoner when he did."

"No, I didn't know."

"Do you _care _that it was a trap?"

He looked up. "Did you get caught in it? Did any of the guards or priests know you were there?"

"No," I admitted.

"Then no, I don't care." He turned back to his papers.

"She's an Altmer, about middle-aged, though it's hard to tell precisely," I began, trying to shrug off my bad humor. "She thinks she's Almalexia. She was born and raised at a 'temple by the sea' and brought south to the mainland by ship. The priests told her it was to take her place in Mournhold but they locked her up in Necrom instead. From what she said, I think the temple might be up somewhere near Port Telvannis, though she didn't know for certain. She said she'd had daughters while locked up at Necrom, though the priests took them from her as soon as they were born."

At that, the quill in Caius' fingers stilled. He looked up, frowning in thought. "Did she seem like she could have been the mother of the Almalexia that's in Mournhold now?"

I hadn't made the connection before, but I nodded, thinking. "It's possible," I said slowly. "They look enough alike, and the timeline works out, I think." Both of us were silent, considering. "What does that mean, exactly?" I asked, uncertain.

He shook his head. "I'm not sure. I'd very much like to see this temple. If the Almalexia at Mournhold is the daughter of the one imprisoned at Necrom, and she's been in the hands of the Temple since birth…" he trailed off. "If you want to control an outcome, control its beginning," he said.

"Which would indicate, if they've had our Mournhold Almalexia since she was born, that they might have been the ones to groom her for the position, maybe? Tell her she's a goddess and teach her what she needed to know? I don't know how she'd recognize Darius, though," I admitted, "and the fake Almalexia at Necrom has been imprisoned longer than the real Almalexia has been dead. It doesn't make sense."

"It doesn't make sense yet," Caius agreed. "But I'd be willing to bet there's more to this we can't see. When we get out of Mournhold we need to pay a visit to this temple. Well done," he finished, offhand.

I smiled a little, though he didn't see it. "How much time are you going to need tonight?" I asked. I didn't know if I was going to be able to get the enchanter out of his shop in the first place, much less how I'd keep him away.

"The longer the better," he said absently. "Five minutes at an absolute minimum, half an hour if you can manage it. Anything more than that would be nice, but I don't expect it. I've found you a change of clothes that might make things easier." He looked up. "Go nap if you can. We might be up most of the night, and you'll need to be sharp."

-oOo-

I didn't want to take off my pendant—I'd grown accustomed to the feeling of my magicka being continuously replenished, and didn't want to give it up—but Caius pointed out that showing that particular pendant in the shop of the very enchanter who'd made it when I had a huge bounty on my head was begging for capture and execution. I slipped it off reluctantly, feeling oddly bare, and he wrapped the chain twice around his wrist for safekeeping, taking Moon-and-Star as well.

The change of clothes he'd found me was a white dress and shoes from some woman's closet, and whoever she was, she was taller and had more generous assets than I did. The dress dragged the floor a little and the neckline dipped lower than anything I'd ever worn, but there wasn't much for it. The only other clothes I had at my disposal had been dragged through a sewer, and I couldn't think of anything less seductive.

As we stood underneath the basement of an abandoned house making our final preparations, I went over the plan in my head, such as it was: find the enchanter, lure him out of his shop, keep him out, and get away without being seen. It sounded simple, but I didn't have any idea how it would work. "This is insane," I told Caius faintly. "I don't think just changing the hair is going to fool anyone."

"Then don't get caught," he said, amused. "It's not like you're going out in broad daylight. No one should recognize you unless you're foolish enough to tell them who you are. Stand up straight."

"I _am_ standing up straight. And I don't know why we can't just kill him. Then he really wouldn't care if you went through his things."

He shook his head. "If we start leaving a trail of bodies behind it'll attract attention. And that's an awfully bloodthirsty thing to say for a baby sorceress who doesn't like to get her hands dirty."

"You keep calling me that," I said, irritated. "Why?"

He fastened one bracer and then the other, quickly. "Because ability is one thing, but belief in one's ability is another thing altogether. Darius had to learn to think of himself as a warrior before he was any good at fighting, and you'll have to do the same. It's a prompt, a trick to get you thinking the right direction. Until you get it figured out, you're just another girl with a couple of cheap magic tricks."

I didn't know what to say to that. I looked apprehensively at the trapdoor that would take us aboveground. "This is still insane. It's too dangerous."

"Dangerous, yes," Caius conceded, "but it's necessary, and I'm willing to risk it."

"Of course you're willing to risk it," I said bitterly. "It's _my_ neck."

His smile was wolfish. "You're catching on."

-oOo-

It was already dark by the time we stepped out into the street. Caius pointed me in the direction of the enchanter's shop and set off the other way, and after a deep breath to steel myself, I made my way into the shop.

"I'm about to close," an irritated voice called out when I pushed the door shut.

"I'm sorry, I didn't know," I called back. "What time do you open in the morning?"

The enchanter rounded the corner, wiping down a glass. "At…" He looked at me and I smiled, trying not to look too nervous. "I suppose I could spare a moment. What is it you need?"

I walked to the counter, pulling Fena's ring off my thumb. "A friend gave me this ring and said it was lucky. I was hoping you'd be able to tell me if it's actually enchanted; I'm afraid I can't tell."

He took it from my hand, holding it up to the light. It glowed faintly in his fingers as he turned it over, examining it. "It's a very weak enchantment," he said, peering at it, "but yes, it's got a little luck to it. And a weak shield enchantment, as well. Good friend?"

"Yes," I answered, thinking of Fena with genuine warmth. "I'll have to thank her when I get back to Skingrad."

Caius had been right, it seemed to attract his interest. "Skingrad? There are some intriguing Ayleid ruins around there. Have you ever been to Silorn?"

"No, I haven't." At least I could be honest about _that_. "Is it worth a trip?"

"It's not far south of the castle, if I remember correctly. And there's always Miscarcand some distance west. Fascinating places, the ruins."

"I've never been in one," I said. "What makes them so fascinating?" Before he could answer, I shook my head in what I hoped looked like modest self-deprecation. "I'm sorry. You said you were closing. I don't mean to be rude."

He smiled. "Not at all."

None of this was getting him any closer to the _door_. I took a breath, hoping. "You know," I began, "I've never done this before, but I've just come to Mournhold and I don't know a soul. Could I buy you a drink? I'd love to hear more about the ruins."

_Please_ _let this work_, I prayed.

He smiled again, a little more broadly. "Let me lock up."

We headed into the street, and since I'd never been in this part of town and didn't know where to go, I followed his lead to a little establishment not far away. Once we were at a table, it didn't take much prompting to get him talking about different Ayleid locations he'd visited, what he'd read about them, and his own thoughts on the subject. Another day I would have been genuinely interested in the conversation, but tonight all I could think about was the ticking of the clock in my head, counting off the time Caius would need to get what he was after. It didn't take much more than the occasional 'oh really?' and 'I'd no idea' to keep the enchanter talking once he warmed to his subject, though I barely heard anything he said.

After a little while the door swung open and Caius walked in, sitting down at the bar nearby. He swept the room with a glance, looking bored. I hoped that meant he was done. I was getting more nervous by the minute. I tried not to look at him directly, not wanting to be obvious, but when he caught me glancing over he inclined his head toward the door casually. Time to go.

Right then a pink-cheeked Bosmer stumbled into the table and tripped, catching himself by landing clumsily in my lap. He looked up at the enchanter, grinning widely and reeking of something alcoholic and rotten. "What are _you_ doing here, Nelacor?" he burbled cheerfully. "Finally crawled out of your… oh, _hello_," he said, turning to look at me.

"Hello," I managed uncomfortably, leaning as far away from him as I could.

"Oh, I wasn't talking to you," he said. "I was talking to your breasts."

The enchanter—who I guessed must be Nelacor—looked stormy. "_Goodbye_, Garonir," he said, putting a hand out and wrapping his fingers firmly around my wrist. Too firmly. My embarrassment died, replaced by something darker.

"I just got here," the Bosmer protested, oblivious. "Well, not _here, _obviously." He waved a hand around, indicating the tavern. "But just I just got into this lap. I couldn't leave so soon; it'd be rude. You've no sense of manners at all, my friend."

I jerked my hand away from the enchanter's grasp with a quick, hard twist, and wriggled out from beneath the Bosmer with as much dignity as I could. "Excuse me," I muttered, and all but ran for the back of the tavern to slip around a corner. When I cast an invisibility spell I felt myself vanish with a profound sense of relief.

When I came back into the main room, both of the mer were arguing at the table. I picked my way carefully over to Caius, making sure not to brush against anyone else, and when I was close enough I put a hand on his shoulder. He looked around, and when he didn't see anyone, casually got out of his chair. I followed him out the door, as close as a shadow, and didn't dare to release the spell until we were finally back underground.

"What did you find out?" I asked as soon as the hatch was closed behind us.

"Give us some light," he said, reaching into his shirt for a piece of paper. "I have the information, but it doesn't look good. All the palace guards have minor life detection enchantments on their armor, which rules out invisibility entirely."

"Damn." So much for the easy way.

"It's not unexpected. If I were head of security at a palace I'd want it done, too. But that's just the beginning. They've got a strong resistance to fire, frost, _and_ shock, on top of general magicka resistance _and_ a resistance to normal weapons. As if that weren't bad enough, each of them has a health restoration enchantment, too. They're essentially walking fortresses, each one of them." He looked at me seriously. "This isn't going to be easy."

We began walking back toward our shelter in silence, considering the task ahead. "What about poison?" I asked finally.

He looked over his notes again. "No mention of it."

"I used to help my mother, at her shop," I said slowly. He raised his eyebrows. "I don't have the talent for it that she does, but I remember a particular poison she made. Probably for the Blades, actually, since it was so unusual. It was… complicated." I frowned, remembering. "But it might work here. It wasn't lethal, but it was extremely debilitating. If a guard was hit by it, they'd be completely unable to pursue us."

"If there was ever a time to use lethal force, I think an assault on the palace would be it," he said.

I shook my head. "We're already accused of conspiracy to commit murder, and after we get Darius out there, we'll have helped a convict escape confinement. If we don't kill anyone when we rescue Darius, it'll help strengthen the case that we aren't really killers."

He frowned. "Who exactly do you intend to go before to appeal your innocence? Almalexia? Vivec?"

"I don't know," I said, overwhelmed again. "But we don't _have_ to kill the guards." We couldn't just outrun them, the two of us couldn't overpower them, and we couldn't sneak by them. I didn't see that we had many other options left.

He was quiet, considering. After a moment he turned to me again. "Could you recreate that poison?"

It wouldn't be easy, I thought. But I'd stood at her elbow and assisted her from the time I had been old enough to hold a mortar and pestle. "Yes," I said finally. "I'll need the proper apparatus and ingredients, but yes, I can do it."


	18. Chapter 18

Every ingredient has a personality.

My mother used to say it when she worked, when I was small and had to stand in a chair to see what she was doing. The best potions, she'd said, are made when ingredients of complementary essence come together and combine to make something greater than the disparate parts. Even among potions with the same effects, the ingredients make the difference: a health potion made with wickwheat tastes reedy and works quickly, while a health potion made with resin works more slowly, with a dulling sensation that can numb the drinker's pain.

At seven years old I'd stood at her counter on my chair, and she'd put her arms around me and pressed fire petals into my palms, turning them over gently. Now some twenty years later I held fire petals in my palms again, turning them over in my hands, using Caius' knife to scrape off the little barbs on their undersides.

We had broken into an alchemist's shop and taken almost everything we could carry. We didn't need it all, but Caius wanted it to look like a random theft, and thought if we took only what I'd use to make the poison that someone might guess at what we were doing. Stacks of apparatuses too rough to use for so intricate a potion stood in a corner, along with ingredients we didn't need. Caius flipped through the scrolls we'd stolen, taking inventory and seeing if there was anything useful. "What will this one do? It's not marked," he said, holding it up.

"I don't know, I can't read it from here."

He walked over and opened it up so I could see. I shook my head. "It's another Almsivi Intervention. From here it'll take us straight to Almalexia's temple."

He gave a short laugh. "Definitely not, then."

I agreed. "Probably not the greatest of ideas." Scraped bare of their barbs, the thick red petals looked a little like flattened, bloody hearts in my hand, leaving behind a smear of red when I put them on a plate.

"Have you figured out how long this is going to take?" he asked, unrolling another scroll. "And would you have any use for telekinesis?"

"Yes, and yes. At least a day to get the ingredients prepared, two days to brew it, and two more to let it thicken and cure. And telekinesis is always useful. If you don't want it, I'll take it."

"Five days?"

I nodded, cleaning my hands before picking up some of the spore pods we'd stolen. "I told you it was a complicated potion. It's not something you can throw into a mortar, grind together in twenty seconds and expect to work. But if they haven't bothered to defend themselves against poison at all, they're certainly not going to expect anything like this."

Caius looked up. "How is it that the Mages Guild didn't get their hooks in you?"

"My mother," I answered, throwing out a wilted pod. "The head of the Guild in Ald'ruhn tried to get my mother to join for years because her shop was so successful, but my mother wanted to stay independent. When they pushed her, she pushed back. You've met her. She's…" I struggled for the right word.

"Feisty," he finished for me, admiringly.

At the smirk in his voice, my hands stilled on the little knife. "How well _did_ you know my mother?"

"Not as well as you're thinking, from the face you're making."

I don't know why, exactly, but it made me laugh a little in relief. I held my hands over the little fire we had going, warming my stiffening fingers. It was cold down there in the hall, and damp, and I couldn't afford to be sloppy with the knife.

"There is a way to save some time with the poison, though," I told him. "We could put whatever weapons you want to poison in with the potion while it cures. When it thickens, it should coat them, and when they dry they'll be ready to work. My mother did arrows, before," I said, watching him flip critically through a stack of stolen books. "Have you thought about what kind of weapons we'll be using?"

"Daggers. And I don't have them yet."

I worked in silence for a while, peeling the skin off the spore pods to get at the flesh inside while Caius read. Once the pods were ground to a thick paste I put them in the calcinator, pulling the fire petals back over to shave them into the thinnest possible slices, translucent ribbons of scarlet that dripped sticky fluid when touched.

Even work couldn't drown out the idea of Darius caged somewhere above me, or the thought of the five more days that would pass before we could even _try_ to get him out. As I ground the salts to dust the rhythm of the scraping sound turned into a litany in my head, a plea I knew he couldn't hear: _hold on._

-oOo-

If corprus meat has a personality, it's a behemoth of rage and terror. It was the one ingredient I was most hesitant to prepare. In poisons it has the side-effect of producing soul-sucking fear in the target, and that fear is hard to contain, even during preparation. Against the ordinators, fear would be a useful weapon, but as it was I had to reconstitute the dried meat by simmering it for half a day, and once the vapors became airborne our little underground chamber became almost unbearable.

Reconstituting corprus meat is absolutely foul—it smells like rotten flesh being slowly stewed—and it has to be stirred almost constantly for several hours so it doesn't burn. I had been at it for a long time, trying with little success to avoid breathing in the steam, and Caius had been muttering to himself and scribbling at something, stopping every now and then to crumple a page into a ball and throw it into the fire.

I heard a whisper, sibilant and serpentine in the back of my head, crawling like a glittering insect into my ear. The words were too low to hear properly, but I knew what they said, on some visceral level: _come here_.

"There's something down here," I said miserably, looking at the door of the hall. It wasn't the first time I'd said it.

"There's nothing down here. Knock it off," Caius ordered. He marked thick black lines through something he'd written, scowling.

"There is," I insisted. "Something…" _Bad_ wasn't quite the right word. Dark. There was something dark down here.

"Leave, then," he bit out. "Go find it and leave me alone."

But I couldn't leave. I couldn't stop stirring or the meat would burn, and if the meat burned the poison would be ruined, so I hunched over and kept at it, biting the inside of my mouth in fear and trying to ignore the thread of command that was burrowing into my brain.

At last, all the ingredients had been prepared and were ready to combine. I folded the first few together carefully, and as they blended they turned the color of old blood, lumpy and viscous. The corprus meat had been fully reconstituted and the vapors had begun clearing. I already felt better and breathed a little easier, but Caius' mood didn't seem to be improving.

As I stirred, he shoved back in his chair, his expression grim, and walked out of the hall without a word of explanation.

I didn't see him again for two days.

-oOo-

I had counted on being able to sleep in shifts while the potion brewed—it needed near-constant tending, and new ingredients had to be added in at intervals—but since I was alone in the hall and Caius had gone who-knows-where I didn't sleep at all. I kept myself awake any way I could think of: standing in the icy stream nearby, running in circles around the hall, feeding the tiny fire. I tried not to think that I might be sitting in my own tomb.

It was hard to gauge exactly how much time was passing, and in the deep darkness of underground, it seemed to stretch on interminably. I had no idea when Caius would come back. I had no idea _if_ Caius would come back.

We were out of food entirely, and my stomach growled at me while I stirred, trying to thin out the shalk resin so it wouldn't clump. Otherwise, the poison looked like it was coming along fine, but it was hard to tell. I had no references to go on but memory and no one to check my work, and as the hours stretched my hands started to shake and my mind began to wander. Darkness seemed to lean in close, pressing on the edges of my fragile light spells.

The whisper in the back of my mind got louder.

Finally it was done, as best as I could tell. It smelled like I remembered and it was the right consistency, and after it cooled I strained it and poured it into a large, clean bowl, covering it with a cloth. There was nothing I could do for it now. It would need two days to cure and condense, to become thick enough to cling to a weapon and strong enough to drop a soldier with a single slice.

I could have slept, and wanted to sleep, but now that it was done something buzzed oddly in my mind, frenetic and wakeful with a false energy that propelled me out the door. I wandered down the corridors, through mosaic walkways and down twisting cave tunnels, not knowing or caring where I was going. Noises echoed weirdly around me, drips of water that I never saw fall, the scrabbling of claws on stone, things I couldn't even recognize. The little whisper I'd been hearing got louder as I walked on, and around me the air grew warmer. After a while I came to a place where the rock wall looked wrong in a way I couldn't quite place, giving way to an opening a little larger than a door. It looked freshly carved.

The ruins of Old Mournhold were thousands of years old. Nothing should have looked freshly carved.

But the air coming from the open space was warm and inviting, a balm to my strained nerves and exhausted mind. The whisper went from command to caress, beckoning me inside, and I went, hardly hearing the footsteps behind me.

The tunnel was short and opened out into a cavern. Inside was a shrine unlike anything I had ever seen: a small underground lake fed by waterfalls cascading from the rock above, surrounded by great statues of the Daedric Princes looking down at the landing below, where I stood. The spray of the waterfalls puffed against my skin, soft and damp. It was warm, somehow, and it felt wonderful to feel my frozen fingers thaw.

Still something beckoned _come here_.

I took in the sight of the statues unsteadily, unthinking. Boethiah. Sheogorath. Mehrunes Dagon. Azura. There might have been more I didn't see, I couldn't have said. I saw Azura and took a step forward, down the narrow ramp and into the water.

Something snaked around my ankle and jerked me under the surface, too fast to see, too strong to fight. I was too stunned to react for a moment, but at the shock of cold water pouring into my ears and nose I struggled, kicking out at nothing, twisting futilely in blind panic as the wall of water surrounded me. The whisper in my head erupted into laughter, rasping and hateful, ringing in my ears as I fought for the surface. I could see the distorted shape of the shrine of Azura above me and screamed prayers in my head, but it was no use. All my prayers, all my struggling got me no closer to the surface. I couldn't break the hold on me, could move every direction but up. My lungs burned and the edges of my vision were going black, and I could feel darkness rushing up at me when hands tangled in my hair and my shirt, hauling me up out of the water, and I choked and cried as I broke the surface.

Caius.

He threw me in a graceless heap onto the stone floor before falling to his hands and knees close by, shaking and soaking wet. I sucked in air in wracking, unsteady gulps, and I had no reply when he glared over at me murderously and ground out between gritted teeth, "You are an _idiot_."

-oOo-

I had thought that the corprus vapors had been the only cause of Caius' bad mood and disappearance, but as we made our way back to the ruined hall, I realized he was ill. His eyes were red-rimmed and his hands shook, and whenever we got close enough I could feel heat roll off him. He'd gone out for the daggers, he said, and had found them, but had had to spend a day hiding in a smith's basement and had nearly been caught. I hadn't considered the possibility that either of us would get sick but we'd been living underground in the sewers on intermittent snatches of sleep and what little food Caius could steal. We should have thought about it. _I_ should have thought about it.

Healing diseases was never my specialty. I had no idea what kind of illness he had, and on the best of days I wouldn't have been able to make a specific diagnosis. This hadn't been the best of days.

"Did you get it done?" he asked tiredly when we finally made our way through the door of the hall.

"Yes. I did. Sit down, somewhere. Anywhere. I don't care." I careened over to the ingredients I hadn't used, too tired to walk straight.

He shook his head. "You don't get to give me orders." But he fell into a chair anyway, putting a hand over his eyes.

I felt around and dug out some red and green lichens, dropping them into the nearest mortar and smashing them unsteadily with a pestle. My hands ached and shook so badly I could barely grind the mixture together, but I managed to get it blended into an ugly paste and put the whole thing down in front of him at the table, pestle and all, before I sank into the chair across from him.

He looked at it, unimpressed. "What is _that_?"

I rested my head on the table and let my eyes drift closed. "It's a potion. Take it. It'll get rid of whatever you've got."

"You said you couldn't just smash things together and make a potion," he protested.

I raised my head. "I said you couldn't make a good potion. This isn't a good potion. It's going to taste like dirt and you're going to have to eat it instead of drinking it but it will make you not sick. So take it."

He hesitated. I pushed it closer to him. He picked it up and made the mistake of smelling it, and grimaced.

"Now who's the idiot?" I asked, frowning dimly.

He set it back down with a thud. "You could be nicer considering I just saved your miserable life."

I put my head back on the table, feeling the beginning of a pounding headache in the front of my skull and willing my teeth not to chatter, too exhausted to be sarcastic.

He picked it up again, frowning. "If this kills me," he said, looking at it in distaste, "I will come back and haunt you."

"Fine," I said, and found I didn't care. "I'm getting dry before I freeze to death." I only had one clean piece of clothing left: my temple dress. But after what had happened at the shrine, I shuddered at the sight of it and pushed it back down into my pack, pulling out a robe instead. Dirtier, but dry, and less complicated.

I didn't want to think about the impassive visage of Azura gazing down and doing nothing while I'd twisted and struggled and nearly died underwater practically at the foot of her shrine. When I shivered as I changed, it wasn't only from the cold.


	19. Chapter 19

I frowned down at the potion, now the color and consistency of warm honey. "We're going to have to test this, you know."

Caius stopped sharpening the dagger in his hands and came over, settling opposite me at the table and looking at the potion suspiciously. "And by we, of course, you mean you," he said. "I'm not touching the stuff."

I shook my head. "It's not supposed to be lethal."

"_Supposed_ to be." His eyebrows went up. "Almalexia's not supposed to be sitting on the throne of Mournhold. We're not supposed to be living in a sewer. Forgive me if I don't have much faith in 'supposed to be'."

I couldn't argue with that. "You're really going to make me do this on my own," I complained. "And after I made you that delicious potion that cured all your ills."

He laughed. "It tasted like the inside of a snail, and you only made it after I saved your life. We're not even, not by a long shot. And yes, you're really going to do this on your own."

I went over the recipe again in my head, hoping I had it right. "Fine," I said at last. "Give me the dagger."

He handed it over and watched with interest as I dipped it delicately into the bowl, getting the merest drop on the tip and tilting the dagger to coat the edge with golden poison. With a final glance at Caius, who merely looked expectant, I took a deep breath and pushed the blade into my palm. It was sharper than I'd thought it would be and I cut deeper than I'd intended, but I only had a moment to process the thought before the world went black and my body turned to stone, feeling too tired even to breathe. Panic washed over me—_there's the corprus_, I thought dimly as it hit—but I couldn't move or make a sound. My mind jerked and twisted in artificial terror, lessened only a little by the knowledge that it wasn't real, that I wasn't actually dying and didn't have anything to be afraid of. My body was completely unresponsive and my heart beat oddly in my chest as though it was made of marble, trying to pump blood gone sluggish and thick. I tried to be as clinical as I could about it, tried to count off how long I'd been immobilized and blinded, but it was hard to do, and as much as I wanted the poison to be strong, I couldn't help but wish fervently that it would be over soon.

The paralyzation effect wore off first, winding out of my limbs and leaving me utterly lax, but I was so drained it was as though gravity had become unbearably strong. I could only barely move the tips of my fingers, and I still couldn't see. When the world went into a gentle spin, I didn't have the strength to fight it, and lost consciousness.

When I came to again, I was in a bedroll, tucked in. I sat up and immediately regretted it, holding my pounding head and wincing.

"Here, drink this," Caius said, holding out a bottle.

I took it and drank. Whatever it was, it was clear and fiery, and burned when it hit my empty stomach. "How well did it work?" I asked, coughing.

"Well enough, I'd think," he said, considering. "You looked like a statue for a couple of minutes, then like a sack of wet rice. All told you were out for more than an hour. How do you feel?"

I was too crushingly exhausted to be anything but honest. "Really, really bad."

He chuckled, and I glared a little. "Bad, for our purposes, is good. And the worse you feel, the more encouraging it is. Here," he said, holding out a couple of envelopes. "I'd almost forgotten. You got some letters after you left for Necrom."

I took them, shaking my head to clear it. Letters? That was more than two weeks ago. "These have been opened."

"Of course."

"You read my letters?"

He sat back down to his papers, amused. "Yes."

My mind still seemed to be working very slowly, like I was crawling through honey, and I wondered if I was still feeling the draining effects of the poison. "Why?"

"To see if you had any other loyalties I needed to know about."

I rubbed at my forehead, irritated. "And are you satisfied? Wait, don't tell me. I'm still alive, aren't I? So yes."

He smiled. "So you're not a complete idiot."

The first letter was from Brennan, a short note telling me that our mother had settled in Skingrad, and asking me to be careful. The second letter was from Fena, a long, rambling account of a hundred different things that had happened since I'd left the temple, including what she'd had for breakfast that morning and that one priestess had died and three had walked out one morning and never come back. Mostly I just skimmed it to read later, but my attention caught on a particular passage:

"And one of the seers before she left said something strange and the High Priestess said you should know about it so I told her I'd tell you, even though I don't think it makes any sense, but maybe you'll know what it means and who knows, it might help. The seer said that the eyes of the deceived will be opened by the faithful, that mercy would come again to Mournhold, and that a cuckoo's child would undo Talos' mortal folly. The High Priestess said that it was prophecy, and important, but I don't think it is because after the seer said it she announced that she was the queen of the dreugh and started swimming to Vos instead of walking like any normal person. So take it how you like. I just said I'd tell you and now I have. You still have the ring I gave you, don't you? I don't know how lucky it's supposed to be, but if you're reading this you're still alive and that's pretty lucky, isn't it?"

I let the paper fall, thinking. "You saw the bit about prophecy?"

Caius nodded. "If that's what it is."

I mulled it over. "What did you make of it?"

He frowned contemplatively. "I'm not sure."

I read it over again, aloud. "The eyes of the deceived will be opened by the faithful, that mercy would come again to Mournhold, and that a cuckoo's child would undo Talos' mortal folly. What's a cuckoo?" I asked, curious.

"A kind of bird, in Cyrodiil. Lays its eggs in the nests of other birds."

"I don't understand any of this," I said, re-reading it. "But the 'mercy come again to Mournhold' part bothers me. That sounds like Almalexia. The real one."

At that, Caius' eyebrows rose. "That would be a problem. We're having enough trouble with the impostor."

I laughed a little, grimly. "I think if the real one came back, we wouldn't have to worry about impostors anymore." I couldn't imagine _that_ would go well. "But now we might be looking at the real Almalexia returning, and some old folly corrected by birds?"

"Not birds," Caius smiled. "You really have been on Vvardenfell too long. It's most likely a metaphor. Someone raised by parents who aren't his own. Or her own, I suppose."

"Oh." I thought about that, feeling foolish. "Any ideas?"

He shook his head, noncommittal.

I sighed. "I really hate prophecies."

He laughed a little, at that. "You and me both."

-oOo-

An hour later I felt much more normal. I had healed the cut on my hand and re-read Fena's letter, and was putting it back in its envelope when Caius stood in front of me, holding out a pair of sheathed daggers. "Let's go."

I took the daggers, uncertain. "Let's go where?"

He smiled broadly. "Storm the palace. Save Darius."

"What, _now_?" I gaped.

He shrugged. "No time like the present." He pulled me to my feet.

"You're not kidding," I managed, disbelieving.

"No, I'm not. Anything you need, take it with you, because I doubt we'll make it back."

Stunned obedient, I looked around, but there wasn't really anything I needed. My pack just had clothes and books in it. "I don't think there's anything," I said dazedly.

"Take these," Caius said, handing me a small stack of scrolls. "They might be handy. Other than that, tuck the daggers into your belt, like… here, no let me do it." He pushed a sheath under my belt on either side of my waist. "That way you'll have one for each hand. The sheaths are filled with poison, so sheathe your dagger after every stab, and it'll renew the poison coating. Don't stab yourself by accident," he said, more severely. "You're not one of mine and I _will_ leave you behind. If all else fails, run like hell and kill everything that moves. Got it?"

I nodded, swallowing hard. "Why now?" I asked, following him out the hall and into the tunnels.

He shook his head, walking quickly. "Because we can't afford to wait. We're not doing all that well down here, if you haven't noticed. It's got to be done, the poison is ready, and Darius is probably half-crazy by now. We might as well do it before we starve or freeze to death or get sick again. Or in your case, go for another dip with the daedra."

I grimaced. "Sorry about that."

He grinned, looking bloodthirsty. "If you're going to go crazy, go crazy on the guards. We'll be killed if we're captured, you know. If you've got any reservations about getting violent you'd best get over them quickly, or else you're going to die screaming."

Almalexia and her guards had held Darius prisoner and accused him of murder. They'd put a bounty on my head. They were the reason I'd been frozen and terrified in the sewers for this long, and I didn't have any illusions that my death would be quick or clean if I was caught. "No," I answered, "I don't have any reservations."

"Good," he answered. "We might actually live through this."

-oOo-

The tunnels of Old Mournhold ran directly under the palace and up into the basements, and once we were in, Caius made short work of a trio of servants we'd stumbled across. We guessed them to be servants, anyway, from their plain robes and meek demeanors. Once they'd been subdued we peeled off their robes, fastening them loosely around ourselves so we could get to our daggers, and headed up into the palace itself.

Neither of us knew where to go. We'd never been anywhere but the reception area and the courtyard, and we didn't know where Darius was being held. But the halls seemed relatively empty, at least down here, and we didn't see any guards, so we walked along as casually as we could.

That changed once we stumbled into the guards' quarters.

Of course, we didn't know that was where we were headed—we couldn't exactly stop and ask for directions—but once we were inside and faced with four angry guards, there wasn't much for it. Caius' daggers were in his hands almost faster than I could see, and while they were still fumbling for their longswords and maces his blades found the gaps in their armor, flashing wicked and silver as he moved.

So _that's_ how you use daggers without looking stupid, I thought with a pang of envy.

The fourth guard had time to get his weapon free, but before he could do anything with it I had lightning at my fingers, almost unbidden, and I released it at him in a crackling arc of energy. He fell to the ground, stunned and twitching, and couldn't even put a hand out to defend himself as Caius pushed a poisoned blade into his leg.

The poison worked beautifully. All four guards were frozen in place, silent, and I smiled in grim satisfaction at the sight.

"I thought that wouldn't work," he said in a low voice as we moved on.

"I didn't know that it would," I admitted. "But they're just resistant, not immune. I can still do _some_ damage."

He nodded. "Good to know."

We found our way down to the little jail, taking out another two guards when we entered, but Darius wasn't there. "Because _that_ would have been too easy," Caius said, disgusted.

"Where do we go?"

"He's not down here. We probably need to go up some levels."

We kept walking. As much as possible when we heard people coming, we ducked out of sight. I hadn't thought that there might be citizens of Mournhold in the palace, but more than once we came across them in well-dressed little groups, loitering in the hallways, and I was grateful that they seemed to be paying us no attention. _They _must _be servant's robes_, I thought, _if we're being ignored_.

I followed Caius up a flight of stairs, cautiously. This had been easier than I'd thought, which meant that with my luck, things were about to get a whole lot harder. Sure enough, the flight of stairs led to a long hallway, lines of closed doors on either side. I cast a detection spell, but every room seemed to have at least one person in it, and most of them more. I shook my head at Caius, pulling him into an alcove. "We can't just go opening doors. Even if they're not hostile it'll be a waste of time and poison. We've got to figure this out."

He frowned, thinking quickly. "If you were Almalexia, where would you keep Darius?"

_If I were a lovelorn power-mad lunatic? At my side. Never out of arm's reach_. I shook my head against the sudden brittleness of the thought. "Close. On a short leash, I'd imagine."

"Close to the throne room, or her quarters?"

I saw, in my mind, the way she'd intertwined their fingers, the way she'd smiled and kissed him at the Temple. "Quarters, probably."

He nodded. "Get us out of sight. These are probably bureaucrats up here. They won't have the detection enchantments."

I cast my spell and when we disappeared he caught my hand so we wouldn't lose each other and led me on, down the hallway, up another flight of stairs, and through another long passage. I couldn't remember the way back to the sewers except that they were downstairs somewhere, and as we walked, silent and invisible, I realized with a jolt of dismay that we'd never discussed getting _out_ of the palace.

Up another flight of stairs, everything became even grander. The tapestries were larger and bolder, the windows hung with intricate laces. We had to be getting close to some kind of royal living quarters. _Something_. We rounded a corner, still invisible, and found a pair of Almalexia's Hands standing guard beside a door. Caius dragged me back down the hall, out of sight, and I felt him move away momentarily for a better look. "Pretty good odds it's him in there, I think," he whispered, breaking the spell. "Stay sharp."

He moved and I saw only the silver flash of daggers being thrown, spinning through the air in quick succession and sinking into the guards, one after the other. They fell heavily to the floor with a metallic scraping sound, and though I couldn't see their faces because of their helmets I knew what they must be enduring and I almost—almost—felt sympathetic.

Caius, visible again, nodded at the door. "Can you tell if anyone's home?"

The detection spell bloomed purple before my eyes. I nodded. "One person. Not moving."

He pulled his daggers from the fallen guards. "I'll keep a look out."

I knew that we were running out of time and that if I wanted to get out of this alive speed was of the essence, but I found myself hesitating as I stepped up to the door, unaccountably fearful. _Please, please let him want to go. Please don't let all of this be for nothing. _I knocked, feeling a little stupid, and called, "Darius? Are you in there?"

There was a long pause where I feared we'd made a terrible mistake, that we'd found the wrong room and would be caught. But finally the reply came, muffled but definitely Darius' voice, cracked and incredulous, "Alora?"

Through the spell, I could see the blur that was him move to the door. Caius produced a lockpick and leaned close to the lock, but frowned after a moment. "It's not something I can open. Search the guards, see if they've got a key."

"They don't," came Darius' voice. "I think she's got the only one."

_Damn_. I looked at the door, considering. It was too thick to burn or cut. It would take forever. Finding Almalexia and getting a key off of her after hacking through her entourage of Hands and guards would be suicide. I put my hands on the wooden plane of the door, thinking hard. The door itself couldn't be cut through or destroyed, and the lock couldn't be picked… my eye fell on the hinges, and I had an idea.

I fumbled in my pocket for the telekinesis scroll. "Someone's coming," Caius said, looking down the hall. "What are you doing?"

I pulled open the scroll, concentrating fiercely on the door, fixing the shape and weight of it in my mind. "Get back. Both of you." I saw the purple blurs of Darius and Caius move away, and heard the heavy footsteps of guards rounding the corner and readying their weapons even as I read the scroll, feeling a great well of magicka that was not my own build and swell. As the final word fell from my mouth I felt it seize the door, yanking it toward me with a flood of unnatural strength, creaking and straining against the hinges.

With an ear-splitting crack of power it broke free, and from nothing more than instinct I launched the door at the approaching guards. When it struck them they fell like children's toys and Caius was on them in a heartbeat, poisoned daggers thrusting into unprotected flesh, paralyzing them. I watched as he straightened, wiping blood from his blades onto his robe and grimacing in vicious satisfaction.

Darius hadn't moved.

We stared at each other a moment, uncertain. He looked worried and tired and a little worn, but he was here and alive and it was enough_. _I wanted to punch him, and kiss him, in no particular order, but I couldn't seem to move. He seemed to shake himself and it took him two long strides to close the distance and throw his arms around me tightly, and all I could do was hold on to him for dear life.

It was like something had shattered and relief poured out of me, overwhelming and familiar. How many times had we done this? Fragments of memory flickered through my mind: the look in his eyes when he'd emerged from the Cavern, somehow older and wilder; when he'd staggered out of Dagoth Ur's citadel, bloody but triumphant; his arm around me tight as we watched the blighted skies over Red Mountain go blue.

He held my shoulders and pushed me to arm's length. "Do you have _any idea_ what'll happen to you if she catches you?"

"Yes," I answered, grim as I'd ever been. _And I came here anyway, for you. Come on Darius, put it together._

"We need to get moving," Caius said. "Do you know the best way out?"

Darius nodded. "The Argonian in the reception hall. He can get us to Ebonheart. But I'm going to need my sword."

I offered him one of the daggers from my belt. "Here, take—"

But he cut me off, eyes dark. "No, I need my sword. Because I'm going to kill her, and this time she's going to _stay dead_."

Caius shook his head. "It's no good. Everyone thinks you murdered Helseth and Barenziah. If you kill her too it'll be that much more to deal with. We need her alive to confess that she did it if we're going to get our names cleared and for all we know, there's already a replacement lined up for _this_ Almalexia, too. And we've got the daggers. They're better."

Darius scowled. Caius sighed, impatient. "Fine. Where's your sword?"

"Hanging on her wall." He rushed off and we followed until he came to a halt in front of an elaborately carved door. "This is it."

The lockpick was in Caius' hands again and he gave a tight smile of satisfaction when the lock came free after a few seconds, and it only took a moment for Darius to pull his sword down and get it strapped around him. "I'm ready," he said, looking much happier. "Let's get out of here."

We ran down the hallway and down a flight of stairs, breathlessly fast. I stole a glance at Darius, who was grinning, and I couldn't help but smile back, as dangerous as the entire situation was.

"You seem surprised to see us. You were expecting someone else, perhaps? Should we wait around?" Caius said, peering down a hall.

A guard turned a corner and saw us, pulling free his heavy mace and running our way.

"The daggers, lad, the _daggers_," Caius urged as Darius drew his sword.

With a grunt of frustration, Darius yanked one of the daggers from my belt, and when the guard swung his mace in a wicked arc at Darius' head, he turned the blow with his sword, coming up with the dagger in his other hand and pushing the blade up under the guard's armor in a quick, shallow thrust. His face, when the guard toppled to the ground like a stone after such a little wound, was incredulous. "What _is_ this?"

Caius grinned. "A clever little poison. Fun, isn't it? She made it."

Darius stared at me. "You _did?_"

I shrugged, feeling vaguely hysterical. "Mother's recipe." Some women learn to make sweetrolls at their mothers' knees; I'd learned to make poison. The world was strange.

He laughed a little in disbelief, shaking his head as he broke into a run and we followed. Finally we made it to the reception area, but when Darius flung open the door the Argonian wasn't there. Instead, there were a dozen guards waiting for us, weapons at the ready, and as soon as they saw us, they charged.

We scrambled to turn around, running the other way as fast as we could down the hall, the guards not far behind. "Here," Darius said, turning a corner, dragging me along. "There's a way out down here." We burst through a door and ran through some type of chapel, barely looking where we were going, and Darius shouted "sorry, sorry!" at the frightened priests as we raced around their altar, stepping on toes and pushing them aside in our mad dash for escape.

Darius shoved another door open and suddenly we were outside in the courtyard, and though the sky was overcast I still squinted at the sudden relative brightness of the light as we ran on.

Caius looked around. "Where are we going?"

"The city gates." Darius looked grim.

Caius shook his head. "They'll never let us out."

I glanced back. The guards were still in pursuit, slowed a little by the heaviness of their armor, but coming along nonetheless, inexorable as the tide.

"They will," Darius insisted. "But I'll need…" He looked at me. "You still have it?"

I pulled the cord off my wrist and tucked Moon-and-Star into his hand. He slid it on as we shoved through the doors of the Plaza, running full tilt around the fountain and toward the gates. The heavily-guarded gates that would be impossible to open ourselves. I didn't have any idea how this was going to work.

We stopped short before the gates as a double handful of guards stepped forward, drawing their weapons. Darius took a breath, and commanded, "**Open the gates**."

I didn't even think, didn't have time to recognize the deep flow of magicka behind the order; I just stepped forward like a puppet to open the gates. His hand on my shoulder stopped me. "Not you," he said quietly, amused. "You stay here." I shook my head, blinking from the force of the command, watching in astonishment as the guards meekly dropped their weapons with a metallic clatter on the ground and moved to open the city gates.

As soon as they were open wide enough we ran through them and out of the city. There was a stable not far away, and Darius dashed toward it, Caius and I close behind.

"What _was_ that?" I asked, a little breathless. Caius just shook his head.

Darius skidded to a halt in front of a readied carriage, drawing his sword and pointing it at the driver, who held up his hands in surrender, looking frightened, and climbed down from his seat.

Caius flung open the carriage door, pulling out the pair of young men inside and throwing them to the ground, laughing, "Sorry boys, we need it more than you do." He grabbed me and pushed me inside, and as soon as he climbed in I heard Darius give a shout and the carriage lurched forward as the horses broke into a run.

I leaned out the window, looking back at the city before Caius dragged me back in. "Keep your head inside," he ordered. "They may have archers." He grinned, flushed with exertion and triumph. "We did it. We pulled it off."

"We're horse thieves," I said, scandalized and trying to catch my breath.

Caius threw back his head and laughed.


	20. Chapter 20

The carriage rolled over the plains of Morrowind as we headed more or less northwest. After the initial burst of speed, Darius had varied the pace—sometimes faster to put more distance between us and Mournhold, sometimes slower to rest the horses—but we never stopped. As soon as the city was out of sight, Caius had stretched out in one of the seats and closed his eyes, and though it was hard to tell exactly, I thought he was sleeping. Mostly, I just sat and looked backwards at the scenery, sure we were being followed even though I never saw anyone. After a few hours it began to rain, cold and sleety, and I thought of Darius out there sitting in it in his shirtsleeves. I pulled off the robe I'd taken from the unlucky palace servant and opened the carriage window. "Do we need to stop?" I called.

"We can't stop," came the reply. "Not until nightfall, at least."

"Then here," I called back, bunching the robe into a ball and holding it out. "Take this, then."

I heard him laugh, a little, as he pulled it from my hand. "Thanks." I could almost hear him hesitate. "You should sleep if you can."

I looked over at Caius, then behind us, at the horizon. "I don't think that's going to happen. Do you want some company?"

I could hear him shift on the seat, but couldn't see his expression. "You can't tell me you want to come sit out in this miserable weather."

"No. I didn't say that."

There was a long pause, but he said something to the horses and they came to a stop, and he leaned over the side of the carriage where I could see him. "Come on up." Once I was settled up on the seat beside Darius I could feel how cold it had gotten and wrapped my arms around myself. He handed back the robe. "Here."

"I'm not going to let you freeze. I offered it to you." I spread it out like a blanket as a compromise, pulling it over both our laps.

He clicked at the horses, which walked on, trudging steadily across the soft, wet ground. "Thank you," Darius said quietly, after a while. "I know it was risky—very risky—to do what you did back there. But thank you."

_You're welcome_ seemed inadequate, for some reason. I looked out at the fog for a little while, at the mist curling at the horizon and around stands of trees that grew more numerous as the terrain roughened and the forest loomed closer. And I looked at Darius, as unobtrusively as I could. He seemed well enough, if rather strained, but that was only to be expected given our situation. "She didn't hurt you, did she?" I asked, finally.

He shook his head. "No. Not physically, no. But she tried to get at me every other way she could. Get in my head, that sort of thing." He looked off at the horizon. "She told me you were dead."

I didn't know what to say.

"Not just dead, either," he continued, bitterness creeping into his voice. "She told me that she'd caught you, and she'd killed you, and what she'd done to you before you'd died." A muscle in his jaw twitched, and he glanced at me. "It's why I wasn't expecting anyone to come for me. I knew you'd come back from Necrom without knowing what had happened and the guards would get you at the city gates. And I figured Caius would be a thousand miles away already."

"Caius pulled me off the carriage a mile or so out of Mournhold. I don't think the driver knew until he got to the city gates without me."

He nodded, relieved. "Then he probably saved your life."

I laughed, a little unhappily. "He did it again, later." Darius glanced at me curiously. "I…" I really didn't want to talk about what had happened at the shrine. I shrugged.

"Well, if he saved your life and knows it, he'll be completely impossible now."

I tried to smile. "You're assuming he wasn't impossible before." Darius' answering smile was as weak as mine. I settled back, shivering and curling a little further under the robe. "Where are we going now?"

"We need to talk to Vivec," he said, looking down at the ground. "As soon as possible. He's got to know about her by now. Might even have a plan to get rid of her, if we're lucky. But we've got to get his help. This is too much for us to do on our own."

I nodded.

"I owe you an apology," he went on, voice low. When he looked over at me, his expression was serious and raw. "I was supposed to protect you. I promised to. Your High Priestess didn't want to let you go, you know, she thought you'd be in too much danger. And I swore that no, I had it under control, and then I put you into harm's way myself because I was too…" He shook his head, mouth set in a grim line. "I was afraid it would be Caius that would hurt you, and it was me."

I shrugged, feeling weary. "I'm alive."

He nodded. "I…" He stopped, clenching his teeth and looking pained. "I know that things haven't been easy, and I didn't think that…"

I half-heard, half-felt a spell being cast nearby, and though Darius kept talking, I couldn't hear what he said over the sudden pounding of my own heart. I cast a detection spell, as surreptitiously as I could, and watched with a sinking feeling as the purple bloom of figures began to appear in the trees around us. "Darius," I interrupted quietly. "We're surrounded."

To his credit, he didn't look. "How many?" he asked, keeping his voice quiet.

It was hard to tell without being obvious about it, but I made a guess. "Six, I think. Riders on horseback, from the shape."

He swore under his breath and pulled the horses back to a slow walk.

"So," I managed, throat tight. "Stand and fight or run away?"

He kept his voice bland. "I don't know if I can take on six or more mounted fighters at once. One at a time, maybe, but probably not all together."

"You're not in this alone, you know," I told him. "It's not six against one, it's six against three."

He glanced at me, dissatisfied. "You and Caius aren't fighters."

I bit back a wave of irritation. "Do you think we just strolled into that palace on a lark? I might not have a sword but I'm not some helpless dishrag. And you said weeks ago that Caius could take care of himself."

He had the grace to look a little abashed. "It's a shame you don't have your bow."

I gave a short laugh. "I wasn't very good with it. Not enough to hit a moving target from a moving platform. But I have other talents." I felt the tingle of lightning buzz faintly in my fingertips, ready and reassuring.

He only grimaced. "This is bad terrain to fight in, though. And no good to run in, either." He shook his head. "What do you think?"

I watched the figures shimmer at the edges of my vision, waiting. "I could take out one, at least, and maybe more, depending on how fast they react. As much as three, if we're lucky. That would cut the fight down to one-to-one."

"What's Caius doing?"

I smiled, trying to look as normal as possible. "He was sleeping, last I knew."

Darius leaned over and pounded on the carriage door, calling loudly, "Caius, you have anything to eat? I'm starved." He straightened and muttered, "At least now he'll be awake for this."

I was somehow very alert and very calm at the same time. "Which ones do you want me to take out first?"

He took a heavy breath. "How many in front of us?"

"Two."

He chewed it over, clearly dissatisfied. "Get them first, and then hang on because I'll run the horses. We might be able to lose the rest, or to double back and take them by surprise. You ready?"

The rain was beginning to come down a little harder, with muted rumbles of thunder somewhere high above, and I looked up at the thickly clouded sky. "Yes."

He gave me a long look, and nodded. I leaned down as if to adjust my boot, looking up under my eyelashes at the lingering purple blurs of the figures ahead, trying to determine what all stood between me and them. Tree branches, mostly, bare for the winter. I focused on the crackling in the atmosphere, the answering crackle of the spell in my fingers, and I drew in what power I could. Then in one quick motion I straightened, and lightning poured from my hand.

It was harder than I expected to get the energy where I wanted it to go but I could feel when the first strike hit, feel the heartbeat at the other end of the arc stop abruptly even before I heard the frightened squeal of the horse as his rider died and fell. Once it began the magicka seemed to feed on its own momentum; another spell, and the second rider died, the purple glow of his life vanishing like a puff of smoke. I turned and caught a third, but it was a glancing blow that only stunned him, and then the horses harnessed to the carriage bolted and I fell back hard into the seat beside Darius, clutching at the carriage as they veered left and I started to fall.

The horses raced across the ground as Darius tried to keep them speeding along through the clearer patches of ground, but as he'd said, the terrain was bad, and the entire carriage jerk and shuddered.

It didn't take long for the other riders to recover and give chase. Darius pushed the reins into my hands and drew his sword, cutting down a rider that galloped along his side of the carriage. I didn't notice the rider on my side until it was too late, until he made a lunging thrust of his sword that was meant for Darius, and would have hit him if the wheel of the carriage hadn't hit a rock and jerked. Both of us were thrown sideways and the sword hit me instead, slicing a shallow line up my back and catching on the tip of my shoulder blade in an uneven stroke of cold steel and pain that made me cry out in surprise.

Then I wasn't the only one shouting, because we hit something larger and the ground fell away. The carriage listed and crashed onto its side and the air was filled with an equine scream unlike anything I'd ever heard, horrible and heart-wrenching and impossibly loud. I rolled out of the mud where I'd fallen and scrambled for Darius, who was tangled in the long reins, but before I got to him he pulled himself free and stood with his sword drawn, ready. The carriage door flew open and Caius was out, pushing himself clear of the wreck and flinging a dagger at the rider that was bearing down on him, catching him in the throat.

Another rider burst from the trees, and I threw lightning at him, killing him instantly and knocking him from his horse, and thunder rumbled heavily above me as though in answer. The last one charged at Darius, who waited until the last moment to step out of the way, driving his sword up and in and burying it in the rider's belly, pulling back with a twisting jerk that released a gush of dark blood, and when he gave a gurgling shout and fell Darius buried his blade in his spine and silenced him forever before racing over to the carriage horses, still harnessed and tangled.

"Alora!"

I ran over, gritting my teeth in pain. Darius knelt beside one of the horses, the one who was screaming and thrashing, and when he looked up at me his expression was sick. "His leg's broken. If you can't… we can't let him suffer if you can't heal him."

I had never healed an animal before, especially not a huge one with eyes rolling in terror and long flailing limbs that kicked out at me. I had very little magicka left to me and no potions to restore it, but because it was Darius I nodded anyway and fell to my knees in the mud beside him. Darius cupped a hand over the horse's eye and talked to it, and though I didn't hear what he said the horse went calmer and I summoned what magicka I could. It wove around the break, pulling tissue and fibers back together and re-knitting the bone, and I watched as it mended and the horse went still. When it was done I slumped over, resting on my hands, my pulse hammering in my ears.

Darius looked up, grateful, and for a moment I saw him not as I'd always known him but as the stableboy he'd been, sleeping in the straw with horses for his only friends. "Thank you."

I was too tired to do anything but nod. When he got up to undo the buckles of their harness and lead the horses away from the carriage, I didn't move until Caius pulled me to my feet and I clenched my teeth in pain.

"You're bleeding. Would it be cruel of me to say sorceress, heal thyself?"

I shook my head, breathing as shallowly as I could. "I don't have anything left. I'll have to wait until it comes back." I felt back to where my shirt had fallen over the cut on my back and wished I hadn't.

He frowned. "Nothing?"

"Nothing."

"How bad is it?" he asked, pulling aside my shirt where it had been cut open. When he saw it, he winced. "Darius! Do you have any potions on you?"

"No," Darius said, leading the horses over. "Why, what's wrong?"

"She's hurt."

Darius froze, looking horrified. "How badly?"

"It's pretty bad." Caius looked again, and said more quietly, "You've got mud all in it, too. We're going to have to clean it out. Come on."

The skies chose that moment to empty, going from rainstorm to downpour. Together, Caius and Darius worked to get the overturned carriage back upright, pushing it up onto its wheels with a crash. "I think it's done for," Caius said critically. "That wheel's just about splintered. But it'll get us out of the rain for a few minutes." He turned to Darius. "Check the bodies of the riders and see if they've got anything that will help."

As soon as Darius nodded, Caius put me in the carriage and pushed my muck-coated shirt up off the wound, and though he was behind me and I didn't see his expression, I could hear the wince in his voice. "You're bleeding worse than I thought. Here." He poured icy water on my back to clear out the dirt, then wadded up something and pressed it against the cut. "Easy now," he said when my breath hitched at the pain. "You're all right. Deep breaths."

I twisted to try and look at the wound, but Caius stopped me. "No, don't look at that, look at me. You're fine, don't worry. Darius will find a potion and you'll be good as new."

I laughed miserably. "Oh gods. If _you're_ trying to make me feel better, I must be dying."

He gave a short laugh. "No, you're not dying. It's a nasty cut but you'll live. How's the magicka?"

"Slow." I huddled over and shivered, closing my eyes.

"That was some impressive spellwork, by the way," he said, pressing the cloth to my back again. "Some of the best I've seen."

"You're lying to make me feel better," I accused.

"I wouldn't, I assure you. You did well."

"Well," I shifted, wincing and trying to sound more confident than I felt. "What did you expect, some idiot with a couple of… of cheap magic tricks?"

He laughed and sounded pleased, despite it all. "No. Not that."

Darius came back empty-handed. "There's nothing on the bodies except some food."

"Bring us the food, then. It's been what, a couple of days since we ate last?" he asked, looking at me. I nodded.

Darius frowned. "Where _were_ you two?"

"In the sewers," I said, more angrily than I intended. "For ages, scrabbling around in the dark trying to figure out a way to rescue you from your..." I didn't know how to finish that statement, and the depth of my own bitterness surprised me. I shook my head, biting the inside of my mouth and going quiet. _If you hadn't just _had _to see her, you wouldn't have been captured and we wouldn't have had to rescue you._

He looked stricken, at that, and nodded. "I'll go get that food."

When he was gone I put my head back in my hands, and Caius pressed a bit harder. "May I offer you some advice?"

I sighed. "It's not like I'm going anywhere."

"Be patient."

I glared at the wall, because there was nothing else to glare at. "I don't feel like being patient."

"Well, I doubt you'll be angry forever." He shifted. "I know you're confused, but remember he's got to be just as confused as you are. Here he is, minding his own business, saving the world and wooing a girl, and then his dead wife from a previous era comes back and spoils the party. This isn't something that happens every day, you know. So be patient. He'll come around."

Little whispers of mourning keened in my mind, softly. "Part of him will always belong to Almalexia," I said.

"He said that?" I nodded, and Caius made a thoughtful noise. "I suspect it's true. Part of him probably will always belong to her. But there are two different men in there, don't forget, two very different lives. Nerevar may belong to Almalexia, but I think Darius' heart is elsewhere." When I didn't say anything, he continued, "I told you he'd report in to me at Balmora and talk about you, but I didn't tell you what he said. You were the first good thing that happened to him on Vvardenfell, I think. He couldn't trust the Blades, couldn't trust the people, but he trusted you. And he's not one to place his trust lightly."

_No, he wouldn't be_, I thought. Especially after getting his memories back. I mulled it over for a moment, biting the inside of my mouth. "Why are you telling me this?"

He laughed a little, ruefully. "Life is short. And in times like these, you seize what happiness you can. You don't waste time wringing your hands over what-ifs."

I glanced back at him, suspicious. "Are you _sure_ I'm not dying?"

I could hear the smile in his voice. "You're not dying. This is why I never work with mages, if I can help it. You're so dramatic."

I felt a little echo of magicka, stretching and growing and finally enough, and as I murmured the healing spell with a sigh of relief I felt the cloth at my back fall away. I could feel the skin merging, the split tissues underneath coming back together. I was too tired to do a perfect job, but the wound closed and stopped hurting, and that's all I cared about. I stretched, experimentally, and while the skin was tight it didn't reopen. "How does it look?" I asked, trying to twist to see.

He ran a finger over the line where it had been, slowly. "It'll scar, I think, but it looks better. How do you feel?"

"Better." I pulled my shirt back down and shifted over. "Thank you."

He looked as tired as I felt. "Just remember that's _three_ times you owe me, now."

"What does she owe you?" asked Darius, coming into view with his arms full.

Caius smiled. "Everything."

Darius frowned a little, not understanding. "I managed to catch one of the other horses. Since the carriage is done for, I thought it would be better if we rode when we got going again."

Caius nodded. "Good." He stepped outside and handed me bread and an apple from Darius' arms. "Eat," he ordered, "and then get some sleep." He turned to Darius. "You and I need to go have a word." And he closed the door of the carriage, shutting me in.


	21. Chapter 21

Darius had explained to me the basic mechanics of riding horses, and had assured me that the black mare was not, in fact, trying to taste me to see if I was good to eat when she lipped at my arm, but I was skeptical of the whole idea anyway. Where I come from, animals try to kill you, and the bigger the animal the better they usually are at killing you. While Darius had told me that the mare he'd picked for me to ride was the smallest of the horses there—hardly bigger than a pony, he'd promised, though that didn't clear things up at all because I'd never in my life seen a pony—standing next to it with Darius expecting me to get on its back made me realize exactly how enormous horses were.

"It can't be that hard to fix the carriage," I said, eyeing the height of the saddle.

Darius tried not to laugh at me. "This is better. Come on, I'll help you up."

Once I was on I clung tightly to the reins. When Darius swung into the saddle with the ease of long practice and urged his horse northwest, my horse followed, and I held on even tighter at the strangeness of the swaying motion she made as she walked.

I didn't know what they'd talked about the night before and didn't ask, and mostly concentrated on staying upright until night fell and I got volunteered to stand guard. Caius and Darius tied up the horses and settled down on the ground close by, the sounds of their breathing and the soft noises of the horses the only thing that broke the silence as I huddled at the base of a tree and watched the hours go by in darkness.

It was nothing like the cold, dark silence that had worn down on me in Old Mournhold. For one thing, I wasn't alone, though I was the only one awake. Moonlight and starlight filtered down through the boughs above, though I didn't look up and try to watch the skies. After what had happened at the shrine my mind had been sliding away from the subject of Azura and Her rituals entirely, and I didn't feel equal to the task of sorting out how I felt about it yet.

But Caius and Darius were there, sleeping and safe, and it was peaceful as night slid toward dawn until Darius woke up with a wrenching cry, holding his head and panting for air. "Vivec is dead," he gasped miserably, taking great, ragged breaths and sounding lost.

"You can't know that," Caius protested, voice thick with sleep as he sat up. "It's just a dream."

But Darius shook his head. "It's not. He's gone." He looked at me desperately. "She said he didn't have long but I hoped…"

"You're sure?" Caius asked. He looked at me. "Can he know that?"

Looking at Darius drowning in grief, I felt the truth of it. "Yes."

Caius swore quietly.

"I'm sorry," I offered. Vivec had been the last living remnant of his old life, and now he was gone. Despite everything else that had been between them, Darius had loved him, I knew.

"That leaves Almalexia," said Caius, sounding thoughtful. "She's the sole power in Morrowind, now."

Darius lurched to his feet, shaking his head and looking sick. "I need… I need air. I'm going to…" He pointed out at the night.

Caius nodded. "Be careful." When Darius walked away Caius muttered, "Can you keep an eye on him?"

I renewed my detection spell, making it stronger and watching the purple figure of Darius shimmer as he lurched away unsteadily. "Yes."

"Good. You think it's true, then?"

I sighed, wishing I had better answers. "Yes." I stretched, rubbing my hands together to try and warm them.

"Damn."

"She's not, though," I told him, and at his expression I clarified, "the sole power in Morrowind. Darius is the Hortator, and she's an impostor. He's the only one with any sort of legitimate claim to leadership, as far as I know. Unless Morgiah decides she wants to come back to Morrowind, but I don't know how likely that would be. And we can't know yet what the Elder Council might decide," I said, thinking out loud.

Caius considered that. "But as far as the people know, Almalexia's all that's left."

"Yes," I admitted.

"Damn," he said again. He looked around, squinting up at the sky. "What is it, half an hour to sunrise? Might as well get up, I suppose. I doubt we'll get any more rest."

After a few minutes I looked out at the distance, frowning. "He's gone farther than I can see." I got to my feet, surprised at how stiff I'd become, and walked in the direction Darius had gone, moving around the dark shapes of trees and over the damp ground, searching for the glow that was him.

I found him some distance away in a clearing, lying on his back looking blankly at the stars, unmoving. "I didn't expect to take it this hard when he died," he said at my approach, voice cracking. "I shouldn't be sad. We weren't…" He trailed off.

"I'm sorry," I said again.

He shook his head and shuddered. "I hated him. As much as I loved him, I hated him, but he was a friend to me, once, and the last. He was all that was left. And now he's gone."

I had never seen anyone look so lost. I moved closer and settled down beside him gingerly, and though he didn't cry he turned toward me and buried his face in my shoulder, wrapping his arms around me tightly. I held onto him like he'd held onto me at Ald'ruhn, and we stayed like that, lying quiet and together in the clearing until dawn broke over us and the new day began.

-oOo-

That's how Caius found us later when he came upon us, leading all three horses. "Come on, puppies, out of the huddle," he said, tired but amused.

We got to our feet, brushing damp leaves off our clothes, and I took the reins of the mare when Caius held them out to me. "What do we do now?" I asked. With Helseth and Barenziah dead, and now Vivec… It seemed like doors were closing in front of us at every turn.

"Now we part company."

I stared at him. "What? Why?"

He rubbed at his chin. "Because things have gone from bad to worse, and Almalexia can't be allowed time to get a stranglehold on Morrowind. Things didn't go well in Akavir last you were there, did they?"

Darius shook his head, looking grim. "No. It hasn't been all that friendly for years."

Caius grimaced. "That's what I thought. And the Empire's already under invasion from one enemy; if we lose our eastern border to Almalexia she might let Akavir come marching in without protest. Even if she doesn't," he said, frowning at the horizon. "She's bad news. And someone has to be the bearer of that news. Chancellor Ocato needs to be told. With the Oblivion invasion going on, I don't know that the bureaucrats in the Imperial City will realize the stakes of letting her rule unopposed, and I _know_ they don't know she's an impostor. You two get to the Imperial City and make them see what's going on and don't let up until they've got a solution."

"What are you going to do?" I asked, my mind spinning. Being separated—going to _Cyrodiil_, of all places, without Caius—seemed like a bad idea. He'd saved my life, had kept us alive this far without giving into fear or overwhelming odds, had pushed and stolen and tirelessly made things work. I had faith in him that I didn't have in myself, or in Darius. I didn't want him to go.

"I'm going to investigate that temple that the Almalexia at Necrom talked about."

Darius frowned. "Alone?"

"Not if I can help it. I have an idea of where I might find some allies." Caius shook his head, glancing wryly at me. "You look like I've just kicked a kitten. Cheer up, we'll meet again. And mind that mouth of yours around Ocato, would you?" He mounted his horse, shifting in the saddle. "Good luck, to both of you," he said, looking at the sun, then he urged his horse north, and in a minute he was out of sight and gone.

I watched him go, incredulous. "Is he always like this?"

"When Caius leaves, there's never much warning." He took a heavy breath, still tired and drained. "Do you need help getting up?"

"No. I think I'm getting the hang of this." I winced as I got into the mare's saddle, muscles I didn't even know I had pulling in protest. "When does it stop making you sore?"

"A couple of days." Darius mounted his horse, the one I'd healed. He looked around a moment to get his bearings and urged his horse west, and I followed.

"We're really going to Cyrodiil?" The prospect seemed interesting somehow, instead of intimidating. Maybe I was getting the hang of this adventuring thing. Or maybe I'd lost my mind in Mournhold and all of my good sense had gone out the window. Either way, looking toward the western horizon, I started looking forward to the journey. I'd read about Cyrodiil, and the Imperial City and all its wonders, but I had never thought I would actually see it. I couldn't help but be intrigued.

"Yes." Darius nodded, his expression grim. "We're going to Cyrodiil."

-oOo-

"We're going to have to stop and resupply," Darius said later that morning. "If we are where I think we are, there's a town not too far away with a trading post. We should be able to reach it by afternoon and get ourselves better equipped."

I had wondered. We were stretched pretty thin as it was. Traveling through the mountains with no supplies to speak of sounded like suicide.

"At least I've got my sword," Darius mused aloud. "But I'll need armor, and we'll need food and potions. Do you have anything useful?"

I thought a moment. The mare's saddlebags were empty. I rifled through the pockets of the palace robe. "One scroll of soul trapping," I told him. "Which is useless. One scroll of water breathing." I looked around. "And the two daggers."

He looked over. "Are they silver? Or steel?"

I yawned and shook my head, the long night's watch catching up to me. "I don't know, actually, I didn't end up using them. Caius did all the blade work and I just cast spells. Let me see." Balancing carefully in the saddle, I tried to pull one of the daggers out of its sheath, but it was stuck. "Of course," I said, exasperated at myself. "I forgot about the poison getting thicker. It'll be completely dry soon. If we don't clean these off it'll be like glue, and we'll never get these out of their sheaths again." I pulled at the blade, frowning when it budged the slightest bit and then seemed to stick again.

Darius looked concerned. "Please be careful."

I frowned, concentrating. "I know what I'm doing. I'm the one who made the poison in the first place." I tucked the reins under my arm, one hand holding the sheath and the other holding the dagger, and I pulled steadily, trying to get the pieces apart. The blade began to slip out of the sheath and stuck again, so I pulled even harder. It came free with a jerk, sticky and crusted with poison, but when it did I lost my grip on the handle and when I fumbled to catch the blade, it nicked one of my fingers.

I barely had time to think _you have got to be kidding me_ before the world went black and I slid off my horse, completely paralyzed.

-oOo-

I woke up some time later to swaying and warmth, and when I cracked an eye open the littlest bit, the orangey light made me wince. I heard the sound of a chuckle, and felt it too, somehow, and it took me a minute to realize the warm thing I was leaning against was Darius. "And she lives," he said, quietly.

"Please don't say 'I told you so,'" I said miserably.

He didn't. "Are you all right?"

I put a hand to my forehead, keeping my eyes closed. "I feel like an idiot." I shifted, trying not to interfere with Darius' balance. "But I'm fine. The poison's not lethal, but that doesn't mean it's any fun to wake up from."

He made a thoughtful noise. "As easily as it dropped those soldiers at the palace… I thought it might be worse for you. I was beginning to wonder if you'd ever wake up." His words were quiet and deliberately calm, but I could hear in his voice that he'd been worried.

"Why? What time is it?" I opened my eyes, squinting at the sky. We were headed west, and the sun hung just over the horizon. I looked up at him, alarmed. "I've been asleep for the whole _day_?"

He looked down to say something, smiling, but at that angle it put our faces very close together. He swallowed and looked away. "Well, you'd been up all night keeping watch. I didn't know if it was the poison or if you needed the rest."

I blinked the grit out of my eyes and complained, "Between not seeing sunlight for a week and a half and now sleeping all day I'm completely backwards."

He pointed ahead. "See up there? That's the town. We should be there in less than an hour. And we're riding west, so you won't have to move to watch the sunset."

I stole a quick glance at the sky ahead. How many times had I stood and watched it, in the last ten years? They'd be watching it together at the temple, I knew. But the sight of the sinking sun filled me with a reluctance I didn't wholly understand, and I closed my eyes and rested my head back on Darius' shoulder. I could feel him frown as he looked down at me. "What's wrong?"

"I…" I stopped. I didn't want to tell him the truth: that I was afraid, that I didn't feel anything that I was supposed to feel, that I had been flooded with doubt that I'd even chosen the right path at all. I shook my head and held onto his shirt, and though I know he suspected something wasn't right he didn't ask any more questions.

-oOo-

Darius had a credit with the merchant, which I thought was lucky until he explained he made a habit of it on any road he frequented. There was too much bother in carrying around vast sums of gold, he said. It was never a problem I'd had any experience with.

After we'd been to the trading post and bought enough supplies to stuff our saddlebags full, we kept on for a mile or so more. Then, tucked beside a cluster of boulders that kept off most of the wind, we made camp, ate a decent meal, and sat by the little fire. While I held my hands out to warm them, Darius studied his map. I leaned over to look at it. "What's the plan?"

He shifted closer and held it over so I could see. "We're here," he pointed. "There are two passes through the mountains, one north of us, and one south. And the north pass is a harder ride, but as soon as we're through it'll put us at Cheydinhal and then the road. The southern pass is an easier ride but once we cross the border we'll be in the wilderness for another hundred and thirty miles with no way to resupply, and that's just until we hit a decent road, not a city. So we either hook around north and then come back south to the road, or we hook south and come back north."

I mulled that over. "You think it'll be safe for us to take the roads?"

"Once we get into Cyrodiil, yes. Probably. No one knows you there, and very few people know me. And they might be too preoccupied with the Oblivion gates to pay attention to a couple of fugitives from Morrowind."

I studied the map, wishing it was more detailed. "Which way do you think we should take?"

He grimaced. "I don't like either option this time of year. But I think north would be best. It won't be easy, and it gets colder up there, but after the mountains Cheydinhal is right there. And it's faster and easier to ride on the roads in Cyrodiil than it is to cut across the wilderness."

I nodded. Darius folded the map, looking out into the darkness. "We should get some sleep. We'll make it to the foothills tomorrow and then ride along them as long as we can."

"Do you want me to stay up and keep watch?" I offered. "I slept earlier."

He shook his head and shifted, sliding down into his bedroll and resting his head on his arm. "Only if you want to, but it'll probably be better if you try to sleep. You don't want to be riding tired, especially once we're in the mountains."

"You don't think we're being followed, then?"

"No." He looked tired. "I think they let us go. I don't know why they would, but it doesn't make sense that they'd only send six soldiers after the three of us."

I frowned in thought. "It could be they wanted to keep it quiet that we'd escaped."

"Maybe." He didn't seem convinced.

"She's not going to take you again, Darius," I said mildly.

He looked grim. "I know." Though he didn't say it, the words _not alive, anyway_ hung in the air, moody and dark.

On impulse, I put out a hand and brushed the hair from his eyes, smoothing the worry lines that had appeared on his forehead. He caught my hand and held it, looking up at me silently, and he seemed very sad. "I'll keep watch for a little while," I said, trying to be reassuring, and he let go and rolled over, staring out into the darkness while I watched over the little camp, disquieted.


	22. Chapter 22

The next morning we set off early, and though we made good time Darius' grim mood from the night before only got worse. I tried a few times to make conversation, but he only became more withdrawn as the hours went by, and from noon to night we didn't speak at all.

Instead, I watched the passing landscape. The forest had given way to grassy rolling hills, and I could see the mountains rising up on the horizon, ever closer. I saw animals I didn't recognize racing through the grasses, but since Darius hadn't seemed concerned I figured they must not be dangerous.

Now that I was properly equipped and not exhausted and starving, riding on horseback was actually pleasant, and since I didn't feel I could talk to Darius, I patted my little mare and murmured to her instead that night when we stopped. I was beginning to see the horses as individual animals with their own personalities instead of just beasts. Darius' horse seemed serious and businesslike, walking on steadily under his direction. My mare, on the other hand, seemed almost clownish: pushing her nose into clumps of clover and snorting at the little creatures that ran away, pricking her ears and swishing her long black tail for no apparent reason, shaking her head and prancing. I didn't know if horses could have a sense of humor, but it seemed as though she did, and anyway she seemed to like me so it was very easy to become fond of her.

The day after that we began heading in a more northerly direction, though Darius still didn't seem to want to talk, and I just followed him.

Had the quiet been peaceful, I wouldn't have been concerned, but it wasn't. It reminded me for some reason of the two days at Mournhold when Caius had been gone, with the same sense of something unhappy hanging over our heads.

I wondered if something had happened while he was Almalexia's prisoner, but didn't want to ask.

We made camp that night under the shadow of the mountains, and Darius stared into the fire and ate, saying nothing. Tired of the quiet, I took half an apple over to my mare and offered it to her, smiling as she lipped it off my palm. I rubbed her neck and talked, trying to work out a name for her, but she nosed at the pockets of my robe to see if I had anything else for her, and when I didn't, she walked away. I had to laugh a little, ruefully—even my horse didn't want anything to do with me—and headed for my bedroll, trying not to think about the lingering feeling of gloom weighing down on us.

-oOo-

In the mountains, travel became even more difficult. We kept on, because we had little choice in the matter, and the days slipped by in a haze of white until Darius said he thought we'd make it to the pass to Cyrodiil by noon, even with the snow falling.

When we got there, the pass was blocked by an enormous circle of fire.

I'd been so worried over the situation with Almalexia I'd nearly forgotten about the daedra, but the sight before us was a sharp reminder that we hadn't left our problems behind by any means. We stayed a fair distance away, trying to determine what to make of it. The circle of fire made the horses nervous, and we led them off a little ways into the trees, tying them to a bough before we walked back up the hill together to have another look.

"Can we get around it, do you think?" I asked hopefully. It almost filled up the pass, and I didn't know if there was a way to get through and avoid touching it. The thing seemed to radiate malice; I could feel it, uncomfortable across my senses, as though it was a rip in the fabric of the world. If so, it was a rip which desperately tried to heal and close, screaming and pulling at its own edges, but it seemed held open by some malevolent power.

"No." Darius sighed. "I don't think we can get past it." He looked over at me. "You're the daedra expert. What do you know about this thing?"

I gave a nervous laugh. "The only thing I know about this thing is that it's impossible. Except…" I waved a hand at it.

"It's one of the gates, isn't it? Like at Ald'ruhn."

"I think so." It was bad enough from a distance with no daedra around. How much worse would it be in the middle of a city with dremora and clannfear and daedroths pouring out? The memory of the aftermath of Ald'ruhn resurfaced, the familiar scent of blood and ashes carried over on the wind making me a little ill.

He thought for a while, frowning. "If it's a gate… gates can be closed as well as opened. Do you know how to close it?"

"No." I shivered. "I'm sorry. I don't know anything about these things. Anything else I could say would just be guessing."

"We've got to get it closed somehow," he said, looking around. "This is the only pass this far north we can get through in winter. If we don't make it we'll have to head back the way we came, and it'll take us two weeks to get to the southern pass, and then another week to get to the Imperial City." He let out a noisy breath. "All right. You stay here with the horses—"

"You can't be thinking of going in there _alone_," I said, appalled.

He frowned. "Do you even know what's in there?"

I eyed the gate, the baleful reddish light competing with the winter sun, casting weird dual shadows on the surrounding snow. "Nothing good."

"We have to think of the horses," he said, ever practical. "We need them to get through the pass." He fished for his map, unfolding it and frowning as he studied it, his breath freezing white around his face. "An associate of mine has a cabin, about… four miles northeast of here. I've been there before. There's a barn. It's small, but it should keep the horses safe. But it will mean riding them there and walking back to take care of the gate." His glance at me was skeptical. "Are you sure you want to do this?"

I wasn't, but I nodded anyway. "Will he mind us using his barn?"

"No. I doubt it." He folded his map and we started back toward the horses. "He won't be there, most likely. It's the wrong time of year for hunting."

Once we were on our nervous horses again we set off northeast, giving the gate a wide berth. We didn't see any daedra wandering around it, but didn't want to take our chances. The horses weren't bred or trained for battle, Darius said, and there was a chance that faced with a rampaging daedroth they would panic and bolt, or throw us. Being thrown from a horse into the path of a pursuing daedra was significantly unappealing.

We found the cabin and barn before too long, nestled into a sheltered area of the mountains and surrounded by enormous prickly trees the likes of which I'd never seen before. We led the horses into the barn and Darius showed me how to take off the mare's tack, how to unbuckle the saddle and bridle and put them away, patient with me when I got the long reins tangled. He found some grain in a barrel, and I melted the ice in the trough as he pulled thick blankets over the horses' backs. I watched as he found a pick and examined their hooves, seeming satisfied that they were sound. When he was done, there wasn't anything left to do. I played idly with the bristles of a brush, and he looked around as if trying to find some other task that needed done.

"We're stalling, aren't we?" I asked.

He made a sound that was half a laugh, half a sigh. "I think we are." He shook his head. "I really don't want to go into that thing."

"No, neither do I," I agreed.

"You could stay here," he offered. "You'd be safe."

I shook my head, silent.

He grimaced. "I don't think it's going to go away on its own. And it's probably not going to get any easier. Come on, let's go see what Oblivion's like."

-oOo-

Oblivion was miserable, as it turned out, though it didn't come as much of a surprise to either of us. The first thing we noticed was the heat. It was welcome at first after so long traveling in winter, but it quickly became almost overwhelming, particularly when the breeze blew over the lava pits and into our faces.

Darius dispatched the only dremora in sight as though it barely troubled him, and scanned the area. "Where do you figure we have to go?"

"If I had to guess? Up there," I said, pointing at a glowing tower. There was something powerful up there, pulsing with a dark energy. I didn't know what it was, precisely, but it had the feel of a magical anchor.

"Of course it is," Darius complained, irritated. "It's never a simple switch two steps into a dangerous place, ever. It's always the highest room of the tallest tower through a legion of monsters who all want to eat your liver." He blew out a heavy breath. "Come on, let's go. Keep your eyes open."

Fortunately, it wasn't too hard to make our way in the direction of the tower, though the surroundings were daunting. There was a path, of sorts, and even through my dread, my curiosity was piqued at the sight of bloodgrass and harrada growing in their natural environments. I'd have to tell my mother about it later, I thought. Provided I made it out alive to tell anyone anything.

"So far, so good," Darius said as we came around one of the smaller towers. "You look twitchy as hell, though. You all right?"

"I think so," I said. "It's just… it's Mehrunes Dagon, you know? We're really not supposed to be here."

He looked around at the scorched landscape. "Well, it's nowhere I'd want to build a summer home."

"No," I agreed, but couldn't help but clarify, "Darius, we're _Azura's_. We're not supposed to be in Dagon's plane of Oblivion at all." The sense of wrongness shouted out at me from every stone and lava bubble, and fear squirmed below my breastbone more insistently the farther away from the gate we walked.

Comprehension froze on his face. "Oh." He swallowed, hard. "Let's not get captured, then. Killed either, if we can help it." I nodded. He looked over at me, and frowned. "You might hide that star." I hadn't even thought of my pendant, and in the sea of red and black the pale blue seemed to glow, obviously out of place. I turned the chain around so the star rested on the back of my neck, under my robe and out of sight.

There was a pair of clannfear in front of the door of the main tower, which Darius made short work of, and then there was nothing left but the tower.

We made our way in and were immediately faced with a daedroth, and when I yelped in surprise and tried to get out of the way it followed me, slicing the air with razor-sharp claws above my head before Darius felled it and turned to a Xivilai that was approaching from his right. A spider daedra clicked its way around a doorway and saw me, and when I saw that Darius was still blade-to-blade with the other daedra I loosed a spell and watched the spider daedra crumple and fall, twitching erratically. When the Xivilai was dead we rushed through the only available doorway, on a ramp leading up.

And up. And up.

I'd known the tower was tall, but being inside it I felt dwarfed, and the steep angle of the ascent made my legs burn with fatigue. Being in the tower reminded me inexplicably of being in Skar after the daedra had attacked Ald'ruhn. There was the same closed-in feeling, the sickly smell of scorched viscera and death, the fear of the unfamiliar. Above us, the dark energy pulsed and sang, vicious and bloody and triumphant.

We were nearly there when we were ambushed. A trio of heavily-armed dremora charged us from behind, with a pair of black-robed spellcasters waiting for us from the top of the ramp. Darius grabbed me and pushed me forward, away from the wicked blades. "Run!" The higher ground wasn't much of an advantage, though. There was so little traction that he slipped, and one of the dremora longswords sliced the air perilously close to his face.

"Get out of the way!" I shouted, desperate, and the instant he dropped to the ground I poured all I had into a spell, a frantic arc of lightning that sparked from my hand and into two of the dremora by Darius, making them shout as they died and giving him time to drive his blade up underneath the third dremora's armor. He got to his feet, winded but whole, pulled his blade free with a jerk and started up the ramp again. I was looking at the bodies and didn't see when it happened, but I heard a metallic screech and crash and then heard Darius cry out in pain. When I turned to look, a great blade had fallen, a trap, and he was on the ground, clutching at his arm.

I was at his side in a moment, trying to pull aside his hand so I could see the wound underneath. I guessed he'd been cut, but I had no idea how badly, just that blood flowed freely over his fingers. I fumbled in my pocket for the healing potion, got it open and handed it over, but though he drank, it seemed to do almost nothing.

"He cheated us," Darius choked out, almost a laugh. "Trader said it was a good strong potion. If I don't die from this I'll kill him."

"You're not going to die," I told him. "Let me see it."

He pried his fingers from the wound, reluctantly, taking pained, shallow breaths. I could hardly see it properly because of all the blood, but it was deep and gaped open widely, and a small river of Darius' blood ran over his arm and down onto the floor. The blade had sliced through the leather of his armor like soft cheese. I murmured the strongest healing spell I could muster with the magicka I had left and watched in relief as the wound began to close. The spell ran out before the cut could heal completely, though, and Darius glanced down at it nervously. "You don't have anything left, do you?"

I shook my head, trying to think, and he swore. I looked up the ramp, thinking. There were two spellcasters up there, though I couldn't see them. It was better than nothing. "Stay here," I said unnecessarily, getting to my feet and staring up the ramp.

He was pale. "What are you doing?"

I headed up the ramp instead of answering. At the top of it, I could see the dremora, two black-robed figures with red skin. "Hey!" I shouted, trying to get their attention, wishing I didn't have to. _Oh, this is insane_. "Hey! You cross-eyed sons of ugly whores!"

They both saw me at the same time and advanced. _Come on, _I thought, _just one good spell. It's a fifty-fifty shot. _

I got my wish, as both dremora threw spells at me at once: one fire, and one frost. Their aim was good and both spells hit me, pushing me back. The magicka from the fire spell absorbed a moment before the frost spell washed over me in a heavy chill, freezing my breath in my throat. But the bit of magicka I'd gotten from the fire spell was good enough. I turned and sprinted down the ramp with the dremora on my heels, fast enough to dodge the falling blades, and skidded to a stop by Darius, the last bit of magicka washing out of me and into him, closing his wound entirely.

One of the dremora behind me fell to a crashing blade. The other was luckier, until the spell hit Darius. I felt something swing by my head and I ducked, and then Darius' sword was up and sinking into the dremora's chest as he lunged, and it was quiet again in the hall except for the shuddering gasps of the dremora as he slid down the ramp, slippery with blood.

"Are you all right?" I asked finally, shaking.

"Caius was right," he said breathlessly. "You've lost your mind. Where did you learn to curse?"

"My brother. Why?" I managed.

"Because you're terrible at it."

I laughed because there was nothing else to do but cry. "Come on," I said, pulling him to his feet. "We've got to get out of here. I don't think we've got much farther."

We didn't. There was a fire atronach and a pair of dremora widely spaced at the very top, and Darius had recovered enough to take them all out with little difficulty. We walked the last little ways up, over a floor that looked like stretched skin and a ramp of claws, toward the source of the power. It seemed to be a stone of some kind I'd never seen before, suspended in a column of rushing power.

Even Darius shuddered. "What _is_ that thing?"

I shook my head, awed and repulsed and transfixed all at once. "I don't know. But this is it. We've got to deactivate it somehow."

"And that'll close the gate?"

I took a deep breath. "I don't know. It's possible."

"If it does…" He looked over at me, troubled. "Will it shut with us on this side, or on our side?"

I shook my head again. "I don't know."

"Damn." He sighed. "How do we deactivate it?"

I didn't want to say _I don't know_ again. I stepped toward the floating stone, trying not to think about the intensity of the power screaming around it, rising up into the dark, crackling sky. I reached out my hands and before I could think better of it, grabbed and pulled, putting up a hand to shield my eyes as the light in the chamber grew blindingly bright and the world around us began to rattle and pitch. _Please, _I prayed_, please, don't let us be trapped in the Deadlands—_

With a great howl of thwarted power and a tearing that seemed to be as much in my head as in the sky, we were thrown free and tumbled down onto the blessedly familiar ground of Nirn. Snowflakes drifted into our faces, pale in the deepening evening, and just then I was so grateful I didn't even mind the cold.


	23. Chapter 23

We hadn't gone more than a few steps back toward the cabin before I began to hear the whispering in my head.

I didn't know what it was, at first. I thought it was an aftereffect of being in Oblivion, perhaps, or of being tired, or just a resurfacing memory, because it sounded for all the world like the voice I'd heard in the sewers that lured me down into the watery shrine. I tried to ignore it, but I couldn't shut it out. It was louder this time, somehow, and I felt like my mind was being yanked around to listen, my feet slowing, obedient.

I felt in my pocket for the stone and curled my palm around its heat. It wasn't possible—it wasn't alive—but it seemed to purr like an animal at my touch, radiating satisfaction. The whisper in the back of my mind grew louder and I slowed until I fell behind, distracted and listening.

By the time Darius realized, it was full dark and I could hardly see him frown. "We can't stay out here. We'll freeze," he reminded me.

_You could open another gate_, I heard, the whisper coiling in my ears. _In the Deadlands you would never be cold._

I pulled the stone out of my pocket and cupped it in both hands. It glowed brighter at my touch, casting its strange red light onto the snow.

"You kept it," I heard Darius say. His voice was flat. "Why?"

_Because I'm yours_, came the whisper, _yours, you took me, you can use me, we can_—

"Alora."

With an effort, I tore my attention away from the stone to find Darius scowling. "I didn't want to leave it," I managed, stumbling a little over the words. "Anyone could have found it."

_You_, the whisper insisted, and runes on the stone glowed orange as if in response. I felt as though I was dreaming the tug in my mind, the pull for my feet to move, the urge to take the stone in my hands and open another gate.

The thought was simultaneously repellent and seductive, because I could do it, I knew. I was strong enough and clever enough, and it would be mine and I could do with it what I wanted. _How do you ever expect to win your battles as you are? Human, alone, weak. Take me and triumph._

"Alora," Darius said again, but it was like hearing him through water. The words in my mind were much clearer, curling at the edges like a bloody smile. _I know who you are, now._

I had enough clarity of mind left to realize that it wasn't really the stone that was calling me. I stopped, trying to think, trying to reconcile the pull of wrongness in my head with the whisper on the path, the promise of power and the crushing weight of command.

Darius tried to catch me by the arm but I shook him off, preoccupied. "We could take it, and use it."

"Use _what_?"

"The stone," I said, as though it was the most obvious thing in the world.

He sucked in a breath like I'd punched him. "I think you need to put it down." I shook my head. "Alora," he insisted. "That thing is _evil_."

But evil wasn't quite the right word, because it was hungry and grasping and opportunistic, but not absolute enough to be evil, precisely. Evil was for mortals, not daedra. My mind didn't even shy away from the word.

But Darius seized the stone from my hands and flung it into the trees before I could stop him. "**Stop it**," he ordered, the full weight of his power behind it, and the feeling snapped all at once, a sensation like being doused with cold water.

It was still snowing, I realized dimly as Darius marched me toward the cabin. I hadn't noticed how close we were but it wasn't long before the door was thrown open and he pushed me inside. With the door closed and locked—and I didn't know if it was locked to keep something out or to keep me in—he turned, face pinched with worry, and demanded, "What is _wrong_ with you?"

I shuddered and shook my head. I didn't know, exactly, and my mind kept slinking away from the thought of what I could have done. Would have done, if left to myself. My mind and body hurt as though I'd been hooked, as though something had snared me just beneath my breastbone and when Darius had pulled me away it had ripped me open. When he snapped his fingers inches from my face I jumped, startled. "Hey! What's going on?"

I grasped for words, trying and failing to come up with an answer. "How much did Caius tell you about what happened while we were in the sewers?" I managed.

He frowned. "Enough. Why?"

"Did he say anything about the shrine?"

He walked over to a cupboard and found a bottle inside. "He said… you didn't seem yourself. And that he was calling for you but you ignored him. And then you fell in the water and almost drowned."

I winced a little, pulling off my blood-soaked robe. "That's not how it happened." He opened the bottle and took a drink, grimacing, and pushed it over to me, but I didn't take it. "When we were in the sewers—when I was brewing that poison—I heard a voice, in my head, and it was calling me." I tried to get it out in a rush, because I didn't want to dwell on it for any longer than necessary. "I shouldn't have listened but I did, and when I followed it, it led me to a shrine. It kept calling for me to come closer, but when I did, something pulled me underwater and wouldn't let me go. I would have drowned if Caius hadn't pulled me out."

"A shrine to… Azura?" I couldn't tell what he was thinking; his expression was too guarded.

"Yes. And no." I shook my head. "I'd never seen anything like it before. It was a shrine of Azura, but there was Sheogorath too, and Boethiah and…" I trailed off, remembering.

"Mehrunes Dagon?" Darius asked, so flat it almost wasn't a question.

I nodded, feeling sick. "And just now, it was the same voice, the same kind of pull. It wanted me to use the stone, to open up another gate."

"I don't understand." He scowled. "If it nearly killed you the first time, why are you listening to it again?"

I was too ashamed to tell him the truth, that I was afraid that my mind was weak and not strong enough to block it out, so I shook my head.

Darius sighed. "How could he even get at you anyway? You're Azura's."

"I think it's _because_ I'm Azura's," I admitted. He still looked confused and alarmed so I tried to explain quickly. "When you devote yourself to a Daedra—any Daedra—there's a link in your mind, so they can feel what you feel. Suffering or worship or… whatever else it is that they want to have access to. But it's not just connected to the Daedra, it's connected to Oblivion, as well. And I walked into the shrine, and into Dagon's realm with a link in my head to Oblivion. It must have been like an open door."

I had heard stories, of course, about Daedra poaching followers from other Princes, but hadn't known if they were true. Maybe the link to one Daedra gave all of them access, somehow? I had no way of knowing for sure, but the thought made me sick at heart anyway. If it was true I was an easy target, and would have been a willing tool with very little protest.

"I would have thought," he said slowly, "that Azura would protect you. At least from the other Daedra Princes."

I laughed a little, miserably, but I had no answer to that. I'd never heard Azura. I had never been one of Her favorites—I was not exceptionally gifted, and human besides—and though I knew other priestesses at the temple heard Her from time to time, I had grown used to the idea that it wasn't something I would have.

But I had thought, before, that I merited at least a little protection.

"But… now?" He still looked worried. "You don't hear it now, do you?"

"No," I assured him around the lump in my throat. "It's gone."

I expected him to sigh, or to warn me further about the dangers of the Daedra—I knew he held no love for them—but he surprised me and pulled me in against him, his arms tight around me. "Good." I could feel him swallow. "I don't know what I would do if I lost you," he said, voice rough, and before I could come up with a response, he kissed me.

For a moment I was too surprised to react, and all I could think was it wasn't the kind of kiss I would have expected from a friend. We'd been more than that for a while, though, I thought, recovering enough to kiss him back; we'd pushed at the edges of this whatever-it-was between us for years, and _friend_ was only the first part of it. When he worked at the fastenings of his ruined armor and padding I helped where I could, until it fell discarded to the ground and he reached for me again. I slid my hands over his bare back, fingers brushing across scars I knew by sight but not by touch: at the back of his shoulder where the spike of a mace had got him, and there, still faintly raised over his ribs where he'd been injured the day I'd met him. There, over his heart, where Almalexia's blade had caught him when his back had been turned.

The thought seemed to squeeze the air from my chest, but he didn't let me dwell on it too long. Another kiss led to another which led to more, which led to the dusty bed and the pair of us on it, pulling at what was left of each other's clothing in a desperate kind of haste.

If I said that it was beautiful and romantic I'd be lying. There were too many years of wanting between us and too many hours of Oblivion behind us, and we were completely new to each other's bodies besides, but what we lacked in ability we made up for in feeling. We spiraled down together when it was over, too exhausted by all that had happened to stay awake as we surrendered to a different kind of oblivion altogether.

-oOo-

It had stopped snowing the next morning when Darius stretched out a hand to the slatted window and peered outside, but the icy wind whistled around the cabin.

"We've got to cross the pass to Cyrodiil in this, don't we?" I asked, still sleepy.

He groaned and slid back under the covers. "I feel like I've been trampled by an angry bull."

I squirmed a little at the cold of his hands. "A netch?"

He laughed. "A male cow. It's…" He smiled at my utter lack of comprehension. "I'll show you when we get to Cyrodiil. Which won't be today."

"I thought we were in a hurry." I shivered, burrowing down further under the blankets.

He shook his head, rolling it on the pillow. "If we keep pushing ourselves like we have been we'll be more dead than alive by the time we get to the Imperial City. The horses need a rest. We need a rest. And we made good time getting here. Besides," he smiled crookedly, pulling me on top of him and letting his hands wander. "I'd rather stay here with you."

New to each other, yes, but learning quickly. He laughed when I shivered again in a way that had nothing to do with cold, and we didn't end up leaving the cabin that day except to tend to the horses, and we didn't leave the next day, either.

-oOo-

I watched the sun come up that third morning through the slats of the shutters, the thin light painting patterns of shadow over Darius' sleeping form. I had not deliberately watched a sunrise since before we'd gone to Mournhold. I'd thought it would be too conspicuous, then, and hadn't tried, and then I was in a carriage to Necrom going the wrong way to see it, and then the sewers. After that… I hadn't much felt like thinking about it.

Now, though, I watched. Not because I felt particularly faithful—I didn't, at all—but because I had the sense that I'd shied away long enough. I had run and hid and accomplished nothing, and had come very close to losing myself to a simple seduction I should have seen coming and should have been able to fight off. Now was different, I felt. Now was a time to stand firm.

The stone was still out there. I couldn't hear anything, no insidious whisper, no thread of command, but I could feel it, vaguely, out there in the snow.

Beside me, Darius turned over, a slow smile widening on his face. "You watched it." I glanced out the window to where the sun had cleared the horizon and the new day had dawned.

I smiled back. "I did."

"Good." He yawned, stretching. "To Cheydinhal today, then. Are you ready?"

I looked back out the window at the rising sun, the light sparkling on the new blanket of snow that covered the world. "Yes." I smiled at him again. "I am."

And I was.

-oOo-

Cheydinhal, Darius explained, was the last gasp of Morrowind before everything switched over to being truly Cyrodiilic, but it already seemed alien to me. The fort by the roadside looked nothing like the forts back home, and when I stared at it too long, Darius told me it was haunted.

"Is it?" I craned my neck to see better.

"Supposed to be. But it's Cheydinhal. There've been rumors about the whole town for years. But the Count's Dunmer, and Hlaalu, and his wife died in… well, not the best of circumstances. So people talk."

I bit the inside of my mouth, thinking. "The Count's Hlaalu?"

"Yes."

"That's not going to be a problem, is it?" I asked. "Helseth was Hlaalu too. Do we need to skip Cheydinhal to be on the safe side?"

The idea seemed to surprise him, and he thought a while before he answered. "We really can't. Our supplies are pretty much exhausted. I don't think anyone here would know our faces, but it would probably be wise not to use our names, just in case. Maybe the count and King Helseth were allied and maybe they weren't, but it can't hurt to keep our presence quiet."

It seemed a decent plan. Once the horses were stabled, we came into Cheydinhal as an anonymous pair of travelers. Darius bought new armor and got his sword repaired, and he'd bought food as well, but no potions. Instead, he'd bought a mortar and pestle. After the incident in Oblivion, he wanted me to make our potions myself.

I protested, knowing hardly anything about the ingredients I'd have access to, but he merely sent me back into the bookstore for a field guide to Cyrodiilic flora and alchemy instructions.

After it all, we rented a room for the night, and I can't tell you how luxurious it seemed to have a good meal that someone else had cooked, and a chance to get clean in a real bath. Darius had let me go first, and by the time he'd finished cleaning up I'd already dressed and stretched out, reading. The book on flora was fascinating, but I only skimmed it for the moment. Less fascinating was the guidebook I'd bought, which turned out to be anything but useful. When Darius walked in, rubbing his hair dry I asked, "Is this accurate at all?"

He looked over. "What is it?"

"Guide to Cheydinhal by Alessia Ottus," I read from the book's spine.

He laughed. "Oh, those. No. They'll tell you where things are, but other than that, they're…"

"Ridiculous," I finished, frowning down at the pages in disappointment.

"Pretty much."

I scanned the last bit of it. "She doesn't like the Mages Guild, does she? Or Dunmer. Or Orcs."

He laughed and plucked the book from my hands. "Forget these. I know Cyrodiil. If you want to know something, ask and I'll answer."

I rested my chin in my hand, a little disappointed. "I was hoping I'd learn enough I didn't _have_ to ask a thousand questions."

But he shook his head, grinning. "Oh, no. No. Because now we're in my homeland and now _you're_ the outlander, and it's my turn to be the all-knowing one. So now I get to laugh at you instead of the other way around."

I laughed, despite myself. "I didn't laugh at you, you ingrate. I healed your wounds and gave you directions and kept you from trying to stuff your face with poisonous plants."

"When you weren't laughing at me," he finished. "Remember the kwama?"

I tried to think back.

"I was sure that thing was going to eat us both, and all you did was laugh your head off."

When I remembered, I had to smile: Darius, pale with nerves and holding a blade he hardly knew how to use, putting himself between me and the placid, lumbering kwama. It couldn't have been paying us any less attention, but he'd gone as frightened as though he was trying to protect me from a fire-breathing dragon. I had laughed so hard I couldn't stand upright.

Maybe he had a point, at that, I thought. But I had the feeling that before we left Cyrodiil he'd see to it I got my comeuppance.


	24. Chapter 24

I'd known that Cyrodiilic ingredients would be completely different, but still, the sensation of using them was a bit like seeing old friends with new faces. Part of what made it so alien was that everything felt so benign. There were no barbs to scrape off, no thorns to avoid, nothing toxic if you cut it the wrong way. It all felt too easy. Even the preparation required very little of me. Darius was still asleep when I'd come back from the Mages Guild with a basket of ingredients, and it had only taken an hour and a half of quiet slicing and brewing before most of the potions had been bottled and ready.

Of course, some things were the same. Daedra hearts still seemed to flinch away from the tip of my blade, unsettled and hard to cut, but in the end, they went into the potion just like everything else. It was nearly noon when Darius finally stirred, his hair sticking up at angles, scraping a hand across the stubble on his chin and squinting around the room. "We're in Cheydinhal, aren't we?"

I raised an eyebrow, wiping daedra blood from my fingers and from the little blade. "Yes. Are we supposed to be in Cheydinhal?"

"For today." He yawned widely. "Have you heard any news? Or seen a copy of the Courier?"

I wiped out the mortar, carefully. "No. I've only been to the Mages Guild, and they didn't seem very talkative."

"We need to get some information." He pushed out of bed and rummaged for clean clothes, leaning over in front of the mirror when he fastened up his shirt. "I'm going to go see what I can find out."

By himself, from his tone. Which was fair; as he'd said, this was his homeland, not mine. "Anything in particular I should do?"

He ran his hands through his hair, trying to get it to lie more neatly before buckling on his sword. "You might see if we need any more supplies. Other than that, no. You could see the town, if you like." And he left, going off in search of breakfast and news.

I found myself wandering around Cheydinhal, alone, with a book in one arm and no destination in mind. The city itself was lovely, and though I'd never seen buildings quite like this before—particularly the chapel, which seemed like something out of a painting—I had the oddest feeling of familiarity.

There was an arbor in the park, the bench inside sheltered from view by thickly tangled vines gone brown and brittle with cold. I tucked myself into it, sitting down to read and listening to the murmur of the river. Compared to many of the cities I'd seen, Cheydinhal seemed quiet. It was easy to sit perfectly still and watch the wind toy with the drooping willow branches, and not to think of much else. I did wonder, briefly, where Darius had gone for his information, but mostly I read, and tried to memorize the types of flora I might come across on the road to the Imperial City, what they could do, what they could be made to do, and how to prepare them.

So absorbed was I in my book that I hardly noticed I had company until someone settled on the little bench beside me, and a man's voice, dark and clear as water at midnight, asked, "You are your mother's eldest daughter, are you not?"

I glanced up at the man beside me and the tickle of familiarity got more insistent at the sight of him, at the arresting feeling of forceful and dangerous presence. I couldn't place it and it was maddening, but the stranger seemed expectant. "I'm my mother's _only_ daughter," I said carefully.

For some reason, it never occurred to me to lie.

"Eldest child, then," he allowed, dark eyes seeming to pin me in place. "Cienne's eldest child."

My mouth went dry at the mention of my mother's name. "Have we met?" I managed.

"No." He shifted, but his eyes never moved. "Are you or aren't you?"

How this man knew my mother, or me, was beyond comprehension. The winter air seemed to go even colder. "Yes," I said. "Who are you?"

He didn't seem to be listening. He looked down at my hands, resting on the open pages of my book. "She must have taught you _something_."

I took a breath, ready to protest, but he picked up one of my hands, holding it up and twisting it around so I could see the smear of blood trailing from the bottom of my little finger down to my wrist. I must have missed it earlier, cleaning up. "It's…" I swallowed, hard. "It's daedra blood."

He released my hand, settling back on the bench. "Of course. What else would it be?" I couldn't tell if it was a joke or not. He certainly wasn't smiling.

What else, indeed. "What do you want?"

His voice was as flat as his eyes. "There are certain traditions that remain preserved, even among traitors and fools. Do you serve as your mother's apprentice?"

I stared at him, not understanding. "I used to."

I wouldn't have thought it possible, but his expression went even more forbidding. "Used to."

"Before I went to the temple," I explained.

He closed his eyes and rubbed his forehead, as though he was getting a headache. "_What_ temple?"

I pulled the star at my throat out over my dark robe, where it seemed to shine. "The temple of Azura."

I didn't know what I expected then. I certainly didn't expect him to take one look at my pendant and close his eyes again, shaking his head and looking pained. He stopped at the sound of people approaching, a group, it sounded like, of young men's voices and… Darius? He got to his feet. "Stay in Cheydinhal. If you know half as much as Cienne I'll need use of your skills before the week is out."

"Why?"

He looked grim. "Because alchemists die at the least convenient times."

"Who _are_ you?" I asked again.

He smiled, unpleasantly. "The next time you see your mother ask her where she learned her skills as a poisoner. And tell her no one hides forever."

"My mother is an alchemist," I insisted.

"Your mother is a _liar_," he corrected.

"Alora?" Darius called, searching, and I heard his footsteps and he rounded the side of the arbor, tousled and a little breathless. "There you are!" He grinned widely. "What are you doing?"

I glanced around, but aside from me, the arbor was empty. The dark man had vanished like he'd never been there at all. Before I could answer, Darius grabbed my hand and pulled me on, toward a group of young men in armor. "Come on, you should meet these guys. They closed the Oblivion gate outside the city!"

His smile was just a bit too bright, his gait too loose. "Have you been drinking?" I whispered.

"Only a little," he assured me. "And only to get them to talk. But they have a lodge just outside town. We're headed up there now." At my expression, he grinned. "Come on. It'll be fun."

-oOo-

Fun was, perhaps, overly optimistic, as was _I've only been drinking a little_.

The Knights of the Thorn were rowdy, certainly, and well-armed and enthusiastic, but I didn't know how any of them could have gone into an Oblivion gate and closed it. But it was the subject they kept coming back to, and Darius pulled the story out of them a little at a time as bottle after bottle of wine was emptied and the hours slipped by. Had it been just one person doing the telling it might have gone faster, but they kept interrupting each other, and the leader of the group—and when I learned that he was the Count's son I could have throttled Darius because _how_, exactly, was this supposed to be keeping our presence quiet?—seemed to adore the sound of his own voice and kept going on long, rambling tangents.

But all of them seemed to be having a great deal of fun, and I tried not to be too sour about it.

"You keep saying that," the young man across from me protested, a little sloppily. "You didn't kill that dremora, she did."

That was a new detail. Fortunately Darius seized on it, pouring him another glass of wine. "She?"

"The woman… the… oh hell, what was her name?" His face scrunched up as he tried to think.

Darius grinned over at the Indarys boy. "You never said anything about a woman."

He looked huffy. "She didn't really do that much. The Knights of the Thorn had the situation well in hand by the time she got there."

That only led to a number of vulgar jokes about having things in hand, and of course, to more wine.

The one across from me, at least, looked vaguely disapproving. "You shouldn't… we… dammit, there's a woman here. You're not supposed to be a lewd bunch of pricks in front of a lady." He peered over at me, blinking up through half-closed eyes. "Sorry. It's just. Women never come here."

_I wonder why_.

"I'm Bremman," he said, not so much extending a hand as flopping it on the table in my general direction. "Just ignore these…fellows."

"So a woman helped you close the gate, eh?" Darius smirked. "Which one of your mothers was it?"

"Not just a woman, a warrior," Bremman protested. "But the woman part wasn't half bad, either." He traced an improbable silhouette in the air, laughing a little sleepily. "Had come from… the Imperial City, I think? Been closing Oblivion gates around all the cities of Cyrodiil, one by one. I think she left here and went to Leyawiin. Hero of… something."

That got my attention. Someone going around Cyrodiil closing Oblivion gates? That implied a plan, and if someone had a plan on how to deal with the daedra, we needed to find them. I filed the information away for later.

"Kvatch," a Breton at the other end of the table slurred. "Hero of Kvatch."

Which only led to another round of foul jokes about how she could be the hero of something else that only vaguely rhymed with Kvatch, and the conversation only got more degenerate from there. By the time most of the Knights were sinking into unconsciousness it was late, and when Darius and I finally made our way out into the night he couldn't walk straight.

"Sorry about all that," he said as we walked back toward the inn, waving a hand unsteadily.

I shook my head, trying to keep him from wandering off the path. "Just come on."

He laughed, a little sadly. "I bet you wish you'd gone with Caius."

"No, I don't," I assured him, though at that moment it wasn't entirely true. "Let's just get you to bed."

He leered a little at that, like he was actually going to be able to do anything other than collapse and snore, which is exactly what he did as soon as he got back to the room and pulled off his boots. Before I crawled in bed beside him I made certain that the door was securely locked, and for good measure, I wedged a chair up beneath the knob.

Just in case.

-oOo-

Given the precautions I'd taken, I was surprised when a scant couple of hours later I was awakened by a cold hand over my mouth. I could see a pair of eyes glittering above me in the near-darkness, and though I flinched away and gave a short scream of fear no sound came out of my mouth: I'd been silenced. The figure—I couldn't make out if it was a man or a woman, just that it was probably human—pulled me up, guiding me out of bed and to the other side of the room as I trembled, too stunned to think, my heart hammering in my throat.

"You are Alora, correct?" a man's voice inquired, altogether too politely for someone who'd just broken into my room and silenced me.

Terrified, I nodded.

"Good," he said, barely above a whisper. "We have need of you rather sooner than we'd planned. Please, sit down." He indicated a chair as though this was his room and not mine.

I was still silenced and couldn't have cast anything, and there was nothing at hand to defend myself with. I sat at the table, weak-kneed and trying to force the last fogginess of sleep away. I could see the man settle himself across from me, silently, and cast the smallest of light spells.

He was a vampire.

I jerked back in my chair, panicked and repulsed, and if I hadn't been silenced I would have yelped in alarm. As it was, I could feel my breath catch painfully in my throat. When I glanced at the door the chair was still wedged up under the knob, and I knew I wouldn't reach it and make it out before I would be caught.

"Do you need to be calmed?" he asked mildly.

I shook my head, trying to jerk my mind around from spinning in fear.

"Good," he said, voice low and even. "Please forgive the hour and the rudeness of my entrance, but the matter is rather urgent. We've need of a poison, and I'm given to understand you can make it."

I was about to shake my head again, but I could feel the silence spell wear off, feel my vocal cords loosen. I took a deep breath, trying to think. Darius was right there, but he was unarmed and drunk and I didn't know how he'd fare in a fight with a vampire. Screaming for the innkeeper would probably only get her killed. Or me. I reached for magicka but it didn't come; even though Caius' star still hung at my throat, it was like pulling magicka into a sieve, being drained away as soon as I felt it. I'd been too afraid to notice it before, but the oddness of the feeling pulled my attention around and my eyes fell on a cuff I'd never seen, locked around my wrist, seeming to creak as it siphoned the magicka out of me.

The idea of being touched by a vampire in my sleep to render me helpless made outrage and revulsion pound in my head, but I tried as hard as I could to wrestle myself calm. "What kind of poison?"

He folded his hands on the table. "We need a poison that will mimic the appearance and aroma of a medicine. The intended victim has been unwell for some time and it won't take much to kill him, but it's imperative that it appears he died of his illness, and of no other cause."

I fought back a wave of nausea and the crawling revulsion of having a vampire so close. "You want me to help you _murder_ someone?"

Amusement flickered across his gaunt features. "I am permitted to tell you that the intended victim is a mercenary warlord who has killed a number of supposedly innocent people. If he should make a full recovery, it is likely he will resume doing so. By not helping kill this warlord, you would be partly responsible for the deaths of everyone he kills later. Deaths that you will prevent, right now, merely by brewing a poison."

Abstract, would-be deaths down the line meant very little to me at that moment. I glanced at Darius, who hadn't stirred. "There's a Mages Guild just down the street," I said, voice low. "Why are you here?"

He watched me, levelly. "The Guild in Cheydinhal is of very little use, unfortunately. And the gentleman who usually takes care of little necessities like this has come to an unexpected end. Bear in mind," he said mildly, "this is not a request. If you decline to do it here and now, you can do it elsewhere, in far less comfortable surroundings. And I did not come alone to enlist your aid. You cannot overpower me, or my associates, and the situation will become much more unpleasant for you if you attempt to try. It would be…" He looked over at Darius, deliberately. "Regrettable, if we had to harm your companion to gain your cooperation. I would prefer to keep things civil, wouldn't you?"

Civil, I thought in disbelief. Civil wasn't breaking into my room and threatening me in the middle of the night. But not knowing what else to do, I nodded mutely, glancing at Darius and feeling my heart hammer against my ribcage.

The vampire had brought ingredients and apparatus, which he unpacked quietly, along with an old book of what looked to be poison recipes. "I don't know much about Cyrodiilic flora," I admitted, flipping carefully through the pages, trying desperately to think and find a way out of this, but coming up with nothing.

"You have until half an hour before sunrise. After that, matters will become rather more disagreeable, you'll find," he said. I glanced out the window. Two hours, give or take. "You're from Vvardenfell?" he asked, and I looked up, surprised. "Your accent," he said, smiling.

I nodded again, unnerved. "I have to get up and get a book. Don't… attack me."

"I'll get it. Remain seated and keep your hands on the table. What book do you need?"

I told him and he retrieved it, setting it down quietly in front of me. A poison that looked and smelled like a medicine, I thought. Nothing jumped out at me from the pages of the book he'd brought. I flipped through the book of flora, thinking. "You're not Morag Tong, are you?" I asked, glancing up at him.

He smiled, amused. "No."

But this was a poison, I thought, my hands going still on the book. For an assassination. I swallowed, difficult because of the sudden tightness of my throat. "If I'm going to do this, I'm going to need to know what I'm doing and who it's for."

He only looked amused. "You _are_ going to do this. And I cannot believe you're bright enough to brew the poison you used in Mournhold and still naïve enough to be entirely unaware of who I represent."

"The Dark Brotherhood?" I ventured, much less steadily than I'd have liked.

He nodded.

_Oh, mother Azura_. I had nothing left to turn to, and prayed. I reached for the link, tracing the silver thread in my mind up and back, trying to find a way through and wishing desperately for an answer. _I don't see a way out of this. Please, please show me a way out. _

There was no answer. There was only silence and the echoing feeling of a great absence, of shouting into a void and hearing your voice die in the distance, and somehow it made the whole situation that much worse.

In the absence of any aid, mortal or not, logic kicked in, wholly absent of emotion or conscience. I wasn't going to let them hurt Darius. I couldn't fight a vampire and have any expectation of winning and I wasn't about to fight and risk both of our lives on a hopeless outcome. On the balance of worth in my mind hung the life of one faceless, nearly-dead mercenary against the life of the man sleeping in bed across the room, and when it came down to it, it wasn't even a question.

Darius murmured in his sleep, reaching over for the space beside him where I'd been sleeping. I watched him for a long moment, but he didn't stir any further. When I looked up again at the vampire, I managed to keep my voice steady. "What ingredients did you bring?"

He showed me, and I began to get an idea.

In the end, the solution was simple: the poison would look and smell like medicine because it would be medicine. The bitter smell of the peony seeds and monkshood used to restore his strength would overpower the smell of nightshade, but not strong enough to keep the nightshade from doing its work. It would be a very quiet death.

I didn't look at Darius.

The vampire watched the whole process. Once the potion was brewing, I gathered up my courage to ask him, "How do you know about Mournhold?"

He glanced down at the mixture, tapping a finger on the table as though to redirect my attention. "You're wasting time."

"I'm not. It's already brewing. A few more minutes and you'll have what you wanted. How was I recognized, and how do you know about Mournhold?"

I don't think he expected my reaction. He'd expected tears, perhaps, or a token struggle at least, not flat resignation. "We have channels of information that others do not," he said, after a moment. "Through those channels we received word that a very particular poison was used in an assault on the palace at Mournhold, and that those who had used it were last seen headed toward Cheydinhal. And when you arrived, I understand there was a certain resemblance that attracted… attention."

I frowned at him. "It's my mother's recipe. How do you know about it?"

He looked amused. "Because it isn't your mother's recipe. It's a rather proprietary poison, as I understand. Unauthorized use in Mournhold created a fair amount of confusion. So I'm told; alchemy is not my area of expertise."

I didn't want to ask what his area of expertise was, because no doubt it involved the violent deaths of Breton alchemists who asked too many questions. When the poison was done, I bottled it carefully in the vial he'd brought and handed it over. He examined it closely, turning it at angles to scrutinize it better, and seemed to be satisfied. From sheer force of habit I began to clean the equipment even though it wasn't mine, wiping out the remnants of poison and bits of nightshade when he said, "I nearly forgot." He reached into a pocket and withdrew a sack, setting it on the table in front of me. Gold, from the shape of it and the way it clinked softly as it settled. "You didn't even ask for payment."

"I don't want it," I said, pushing it back immediately. "Just get this cuff off me."

"Don't want payment?" he mocked gently, smiling. "That makes this," he held up the bottle, "a gift."

The way he said it made it sound significant, but the sense of having a knife at my back while pretending that everything was polite and civil was wearing on me quickly. "I don't care."

He smiled even wider and I wondered if I'd been caught in something, but he tucked the gold away, produced a key, and undid the cuff on my wrist with an easy flick. "Rather late for an attack of conscience now, don't you think?"

"Are we done?" I managed tightly.

He packed the apparatus he'd brought, quietly. "For the moment. If we have further need of you…" He glanced over. "I'm sure we'll find you."

"Your book," I said, when I noticed he'd left it on the table, picking it up and handing it over.

He shook his head. "I was given instructions that it was yours. A family heirloom, as I understand it, that you're to keep. Until next time," he said, and bowed slightly. I watched him go—through the door, this time, though he must have come in through the window—and looked down at the book in my hands.

It was very old, and the handwriting in it couldn't have belonged to just one person. It looked to have been written in over the course of generations, if some of the dates inside were accurate, and the last thirty pages or so were blank. I looked in all the usual places for some kind of indicator as to where it had come from, but there was no title, no name of the original author. The book itself was bound in black leather, worn at the corners but mostly in good condition. Worked into the front cover was an image of a flowering vine, looking almost real with curling tendrils of green leaves and open blossoms, blooming white against the black background.

I had no idea what to make of it. I wrapped the book carefully and tucked it into my pack, deciding that it was a puzzle for later. I was still in my clothes from the day before but didn't care; it was an hour until sunrise and I wanted to be out of Cheydinhal as fast as humanly possible. I shook Darius awake, gently.

"It's too early," he murmured, trying to burrow back under the blankets.

"I know," I agreed, "but in case the Indarys boy decides to wake up and talk about last night, we should try to get some distance between ourselves and the Count." It was true enough to be a convenient excuse, anyway. "Can you ride?"

He grinned lazily, still a little drunk. "I could probably ride dead, if I had to," he said. "But I wouldn't want to try it."

In twenty minutes we were at the stables, our horses curious and eager to be going. "How far is Skingrad from the Imperial City?" I asked him, as he saddled up his gelding.

The winter air was bracing, and seemed to have sobered him up some. "About a day's ride," he said, thinking. "Why?"

"My mother moved there," I answered, scratching my mare's neck as she nosed at the pocket of my robe in hopes of a treat. "I'm naming you Verity," I told her. "'My mare' has lost its charm."

Darius' forehead wrinkled when he looked at me. "Most people don't name the horses they steal." I shrugged, and he added, "And you couldn't take her back to the temple with you, anyway." I shrugged again and his expression went disbelieving. "Alora?"

I just shook my head, smiling a little. It was too early for that conversation, and it wasn't something I was certain of, yet. It seemed best to keep the idea to myself for a while.

The only thing that was certain was that I was going to get to Skingrad, somehow, and have a word with my mother. Between the father who wasn't my father, the family heirloom book of poisons in my pack, and assassins recognizing me and breaking into my room in the middle of the night, I was pretty sure I was due some answers.


	25. Chapter 25

I didn't tell Darius about the vampire. I couldn't have said why, exactly, just that it was too wrapped up in guilt and anger, and I'd been singled out because of my mother, and I wanted to know why. Until I got an explanation, and a good one, I didn't want to talk about it.

But the weather was good, and we rode westward with very little difficulty. It was odd, traveling further and further into a foreign country, and the longer we rode the less familiar the landscape became. Darius tried to act as a tour guide, pointing out landmarks along the way. He said that it was a shame we were coming in winter because Cyrodiil was even more beautiful in spring, but it seemed lovely enough as it was, gentle and sleepy with snow lying in hollows on the ground. He laughed at my expression when White Gold Tower came into view from across the lake, rising high into the sky and seeming to glow in the sunlight. It was easily the most beautiful thing I had ever seen, and if I gasped at the sight of it, I'm sure I'm not the first foreigner to do so.

Cyrodiil itself, I liked. It was the people in Cyrodiil who made me nervous. We passed mounted Legionnaires and a few other travelers on the road, but I kept my mouth shut and let Darius do all the talking. For one thing, I didn't want my accent to give away where I'd come from in case the bounty on my head was common knowledge. For another, I felt so out of place I wouldn't have had any idea of what to say.

I wondered if this was how Darius felt when he'd been dumped on Vvardenfell. His circumstances had been far worse than mine, granted. I was merely homesick and uneasy, and hadn't been arrested or left to fend for myself completely. Yet.

We saw a few Oblivion gates from the road, but they weren't in our way and didn't look to be threatening anyone, so we gave them a wide berth and made our way onward. I watched them as we passed, spitting heat and glowing like monstrous eyes, a reminder of the troubles we were walking into. But the day passed without incident, and when we came to a place where the road branched we rode north, and stopped in at a little inn to spend the night.

The next day started out promisingly enough. We got up early, ate well, and set off down the road with every expectation of making it to the Imperial City by mid-afternoon. We could see it clearly as we rode west down the road, glowing like a pearl in the center of the deep blue lake.

Within an hour, everything had changed.

An Oblivion gate loomed right on the side of the road, not really blocking it, but the situation was precarious. On our right was the gate, and on our left the ground dropped away on a long, steep slope. We dismounted carefully some distance away, and walked our horses down the road with one eye on the gate at all times.

Up ahead was a tiny cluster of buildings, too small to even be called a village, and just beyond that, pulsing with malevolent energy, was another gate. It was odd, hearing the noise from the one ahead of us grow louder as the one behind us became more distant, but being sandwiched between both. I wondered if the gates would get more densely packed the closer we got to the Imperial City. I hoped not.

The door of one of the buildings opened and a young Dunmer emerged, craning his neck to see us better and walking toward us. Darius pushed his horse's reins into my hand and leaned close. "I'll go talk to him." When he headed over, his hand rested on the hilt of his sword.

"Good morning, friend," the Dunmer called as Darius got closer. "Are you a soldier?"

"Of sorts," Darius answered.

"I saw your sword," the young mer said earnestly. "And I hoped you were. We're desperately in need of help."

Darius seemed to sigh a little, though subtly. "What kind of help?"

But the Dunmer was looking at Darius' other hand, the one not resting on his sword, and had caught sight of Moon-and-Star. "You're the Nerevarine, aren't you?" he asked, his eyes going wide.

There was no point in denying it; no one else could have worn that ring and lived. "Yes," Darius admitted.

The young mer laughed in relief, a broad smile splitting his features. "Oh! That's… that's wonderful! We've been boxed in by these Oblivion gates for a week and a half. Daedra come out of them at all hours of the day and night and we've had to keep the sheep inside because they keep attracting clannfear. Could you close the gates for us?"

"Close the gates?" Darius repeated, stunned. "Why don't you just leave?"

The Dunmer seemed taken aback. "We've nowhere to go, and it's even worse elsewhere. These things are all over Cyrodiil. I know Aleswell doesn't look like much, but it's all we have. We can't leave it."

Since he didn't seem to be a threat, I stepped forward, leading the horses. "I thought there was a woman closing these gates around Cyrodiil. A Hero of Kvatch?"

He smiled, pained. "There is, and we asked. But she's only closing the ones around the cities, because they have soldiers to send to Bruma. We're too small to be of concern, and we don't have anyone to send. She turned us down."

Darius did sigh then, heavily. "Could we have a moment to discuss it?"

The Dunmer's eyes flicked from Darius to me, and back. "Of course. I'll be in the inn if you need anything." He went back inside, glancing over his shoulder and looking disappointed.

As soon as the door closed behind him Darius walked back over to me and swore under his breath, rubbing his forehead. "I really don't want to go into another one of those things. Much less two."

I nodded agreement. I didn't want to go in either, but they needed help, and it was Darius. He wouldn't turn them away.

He looked over at me, frowning. "You can't go back into a gate, can you? Not with those stone-things."

I blinked, not liking the question. "You're not thinking of going in them _alone_, are you?"

"If I have to." He stared out over the lake, at the city. "I'd rather go in alone and get a little banged up than go in with you and come out without you."

"Darius," I protested, "I wouldn't…" But I almost had, I remembered, so I stopped myself.

"It'll be fine. I'm a decent fighter, you know," he tried to joke. I didn't laugh, and he offered, "We could just keep walking."

"No," I said, though I wanted to say yes. "We could, but we shouldn't. They need help." I shook my head. "But you're not going into the Deadlands alone."

He didn't like it, I think. My reaction to the stone had spooked him more than I had realized, but he didn't want to be in Oblivion on his own. Darius knocked on the door of the little inn and told the Dunmer that we'd do it, and once our horses were as safe as they could get, we made our way into the first gate.

It threw us off, at first, because it was so different. There was still rocky ground and lava, and the tower in the distance like a thunderstorm waiting to happen, but otherwise it was confusing. There was a broken bridge in front of us, leading nowhere, and a path to our left and right, but no indication of which way was the right way to go. We guessed and went left only to come to a dead end, where we were faced with a pair of fire atronachs who threw spells at us as soon as we came into view. Between Darius' sword and the quick spell I threw, the daedra didn't last long.

If anything, Oblivion seemed more miserable this time than the last. It seemed even hotter, somehow, though I didn't know how _that_ was possible, and within minutes streaks of sweat and ash lined our faces. I turned my pendant around to shield it from view, and climbed up on a boulder to scan the landscape. It looked like it was going to be a long, hard walk, and I could see the shapes of daedra moving in the distance: the jerky, pecking walk of clannfear, the lumbering of daedroths. At least a dozen on the road ahead.

I climbed down and rummaged in my pack, thinking. I'd made rather a lot of potions in Cheydinhal, and they clinked together in the pack. It might be enough, if we moved quickly. Darius watched me, curious. "What are you doing?"

I pulled out a flask. "Thinking. How disappointed would you be if we were invisible and didn't have to fight?"

He looked at me like I was crazy. "If you can do it, do it. The sooner the gate's closed and we're out of here, the better."

So we did. The daedra still knew we were there, of course. They jerked their heads around at our approach, growling and tasting the air for our scent. But we rushed on, weaving around boulders and avoiding the clawlike spikes that raked up from the ground, dodging the daedra, holding tightly to each other's hands so we didn't get separated as I cast spell after spell to keep us out of sight.

At least getting to the tower was easy. Inside, there were daedroths and Xivilai waiting, and they were harder to shake. The Xivilai still knew we were there and pursued us for a while, through a series of doors that opened with a sound like cracking bones. The spears that jutted out from the wall only startled us the first time; after that, we knew what to look for, and more than anything we tried to go as quickly as we could.

The only time we stopped to fight was at the very top of the tower, and even that was abbreviated. I sent lightning arcing into the dremora that charged us, holding them off as Darius knocked the stone from its place with the flat of his sword, and the daedra's howling as it died was echoed a thousand times louder and stronger in the screaming in the sky as the world began to tear itself apart.

-oOo-

Coming back to Nirn was painful. We didn't merely land badly, it seemed like we'd fallen from some height, so when I tried to roll to my knees I found myself a bit wobblier than I'd expected, and I saw Darius flat on his back with the wind knocked out of him.

The young Dunmer came racing down the little road, his eyes wide. "That was _amazing_!"

I tried to stand but the ground seemed to be shaking, still, and the contrast of going from such infernal heat to feeling frosty winter wind on my face was jarring. The knocked-free stone rolled toward the mer, who picked it up, fascinated, and turned it over in his hands. Its hellish light reflected oddly off his gray skin. "There's some sort of writing all over it," he said. "I've never seen anything like it before. Do you know what it says?"

I looked at the stone and though I hadn't touched it, I felt something roar to life in my mind with the same sound the gates made, hungry and grasping. I knew what it said because I could taste the words in my mouth, bitter and bloody. It would be easy, so easy, to reach out and take it and use it.

Darius had recovered enough to spring to his feet, snatch the stone from the mer's hand, and fling it with all his strength in the direction of the lake. I didn't hear it land, but just having it somewhere that wasn't right under my nose was a relief. "Don't do that," he said to the mer, still breathing hard. "They hurt her." Which was not precisely true, but it was as good an explanation as any. Darius helped me up. "You're not hurt?"

I shook my head. "You?"

"No." He tried to wipe ashes off his face and only managed to smear them. "It was a good idea to do it invisible. Do we have enough potion to do the next one that way?"

I didn't think so, but I looked anyway. "No."

"Damn." He sighed. "It was better than nothing, though." He peered at the sky, squinting when sweat dripped into his eyes. "Is it already after noon?"

But there wasn't any time to answer, because the other Oblivion gate seemed to shimmer and stretch and a pair of daedroths charged out at us, swaying heavily as they ran.

"Get inside!" Darius shouted at the Dunmer, who scurried to obey. "Take the left," he told me, charging toward the one on the right.

If I haven't said it before, Darius in battle is a thing of wonder. He never had the flourishing grace of some light swordsmen who seem to dance as much as fight, or the sheer brute force you see with Nords where their blades swing in cleaving arcs that could fell trees. Darius had learned a little here and a little there from half a dozen people of half a dozen races and mostly just from doing what kept him alive. His technique looked unlike anything I'd ever seen, and his sword seemed an extension of his body. It flashed up at the daedroth, and he was inside the reach of the daedroth's claws with his blade buried in its belly, and I didn't see what happened next because I poured all I had into a lightning spell that stopped the other daedra cold, dead before it hit the ground.

Darius wiped his blade clean, kicking a little at the daedroth he'd felled when it reached out feebly with its claws, still trying to swipe at him as it died. "I hate those things."

I laughed, weakly. "I don't think anyone really likes them."

With his sword still readied in one hand he walked over, pulling me close with his free arm and kissing me with an intensity that took me by surprise. "What was that for?" I asked, swallowing hard when we broke apart.

He laughed a little desperately, shaking his head. "Because I'm about to walk into fetching _Oblivion_ for the second time today. And because when you use shock spells your hair stands up and makes you look like an angry housecat."

I pushed at his shoulder. "Thanks."

"It does," he insisted. "Besides, I figured I'd better kiss you now in case…" he trailed off.

_In case we both die in there_, I finished, silently. Because it was Oblivion, and the Deadlands, no less, and would be crawling with hordes of daedra, and at the end of it there would be another stone to deal with. We'd been lucky so far, but if our luck ran out in there, we would be done for. At the images that thought brought to mind I reached up, wound my hands in his hair and kissed him again, more thoroughly, which he hadn't been expecting but didn't protest.

_I love you, _I thought. But we had more than enough to deal with already and if ever there was a wrong place to stand around blathering on about feelings, it was ten feet away from an active Oblivion gate. "We're halfway done," I said instead. "Let's finish this up."

-oOo-

This gate was different from both the ones we'd been in before, which wasn't too much of a surprise. What did come as a surprise was the sight of the tower in the near distance, entirely surrounded by lava. There were no bridges and no apparent places to cross, and both of us stood there in silence, trying to think.

"You have any levitation potions?" Darius asked.

"No." Even if I had, I wouldn't levitate over lava. A high fall we had a shot at surviving, even if we were hurt. If we fell into a lake of lava there'd be no living through it.

It took us a while to find the tunnels. I had thought aboveground in Oblivion was bad, but the caves were much worse. The air wasn't just hot, it shimmered with waves of heat, roasting us where we stood. We panted, dripping with sweat, trying to make our way forward. I tried, at first, to keep us invisible, but there were too many doors to open, breaking my spells and leaving us vulnerable. The daedroths here were vicious and quick, and there was little room to maneuver. When we rounded a corner and ran into one, it only took one swipe to toss me across the little room like a ragdoll. My head cracked against the stone wall and I fell to the floor, blinking away the stars that appeared before my eyes. Darius lured the daedroth away from me, feinting around one of the twisted stone pillars before his sword found purchase in the daedra's throat and the floor went slick with the resulting fountain of blood.

I scrambled to my feet, lightheaded from heat and the thin air and the blow, but I'd lost any sense of direction. "Which way?" I asked, feeling unsteady.

"Nowhere. Not yet." He picked up my pack from where it had fallen. "You need to heal up. Those knocks on the head will sneak up on you. Here."

I drank the potion he held out, feeling the stickiness of the aloe coat its way down my throat and grimacing a little at the taste.

"Do we need to stop and rest?" he asked, worried.

"No." I shouldered my pack, wiping sweat out of my eyes. I hadn't thought to bring any water. We were going to be thirsty when we got out of here. "I don't think we should stay here. We can rest when we're out." _Or dead_, I thought, and wished I hadn't.

There were spots of color high in his cheeks but he'd started to look a little pale around his mouth. "Let's get out of here, then."

I didn't care how quickly I burned through my magicka, then; there were too many daedra on the way out and no room to fight, and we were both just this side of fainting from the heat. I cast the spells to keep us invisible with a desperate kind of focus, and we rushed along as quickly as we could, hoping it would get us out.

Finally—_finally_—it did, though I only had a tiny bit of potion left when we made our way through the last door and out aboveground. We breathed the cooler air in great gulps at the foot of the largest tower, grateful that there weren't any daedra out there.

We didn't know they had archers.

We only learned the fact when arrow went whizzing by Darius' head, missing by inches, and then something hit me from behind and sent me staggering forward onto my hands and knees, a piercing pain shooting outward through my shoulder. I barely had time to recognize that I'd been hit before Darius had pulled me up and we were moving. "Get in the tower!"

I had never thought I would see the day where the _inside_ of an Oblivion tower was the safest place to be.

It wasn't; as soon as we got in we were attacked. I clung to the wall to stay out of the way of Darius' blade and the clannfear's claws, and when the daedra were dead and Darius and I alone again, I cracked the seal on the last bottle of restorative potion, drinking it down.

"I really, really _hate_ Oblivion," Darius said, looking weary.

"So do I," I agreed. I tried to twist to see the arrow that jutted out of my shoulder, but when I did the muscle pulled around it and it hurt even more. Darius came around behind me, looking at it and wincing. "There's no potion I know of that'll push out an arrowhead. And once it's pulled it'll take some time to heal up and you're not going to be going anywhere." He grimaced. "I think it might better to leave it in for now. Can you…" He blew out a heavy breath. "Can you make it the rest of the way?"

I didn't see that I had a choice. If I wanted to get out, I'd have to go through.

There were no daedra to fight as we made our way up. Not one dremora, not one scamp. The upper levels of the tower seemed eerily abandoned, absolutely quiet except for the sounds of our footsteps echoing off the walls. The first few empty rooms we walked into were a relief, but as we walked onward and were met with no resistance at all—no trapped blades to crash down on our heads, no spider daedra to click around the corner, no daedroths ready to rake open our bellies with wicked claws—we began to feel uneasy.

Finally Darius stopped, hair plastered to his forehead as he leaned against the wall. "Does it feel to you like we're walking into a trap?"

I sighed. "Maybe. Yes."

"_Dammit_," he said quietly, his shoulders seeming to slump under his armor. "Why would they try to trap us now? They were doing a damn good job of almost killing us before."

I bit the inside of my mouth, sick with pain and not even wanting to think anymore. Especially not about this. But I shook my head a little. "I think if they're not trying to kill us…"

"They're trying to capture us, aren't they?" Darius asked, closing his eyes. "Hell. There's no way out, though. We can't go back through the caves. We can't stay here. And we can't go forward because…"

"Trap," I finished, trying to stay upright, which was becoming progressively harder.

"Yeah."

We were silent then, trying to think and coming up with nothing. We'd thought we were well-prepared and able when we came into the gate in the first place. Now we faced the trio of equally terrible prospects before us, and knew better. "Caius said," I said, half to myself, "that traps work both ways."

Darius looked over. "You think we should go on?"

I tried to think of a way around it, and couldn't. Finally I nodded. "Let's see what's up there."

We made our way through the empty rooms and up the long ramp with no opposition, the only sound the high-pitched howl of the pillar of fire that supported the stone above.

The trap was in the highest room. We opened the door carefully and made our way up the jagged ground. On the lower level of the room were at least twenty dremora, standing at the ready with their weapons sheathed.

For some reason that last detail was the one to make a curl of panic wind its way through my throat. The apparent leader stepped forward, regarding us, and announced in a voice like gargling gravel, "At last. We've been waiting for you."

Though I didn't turn around, I could hear more dremora come through the door behind us, their armor clanking as they lined up at our backs, pinning us between the two forces.

The trap had been sprung, and we were well and truly caught, but we weren't going down just yet. "I'll stay," I said, so quietly only Darius could hear. "Go get the stone."

He shifted slightly, uncomfortable. "I can't—"

"You have to," I whispered, never taking my eyes off the dremora in front of us. I didn't see that we had much of a chance, otherwise. There were too many to fight, and if we tried we wouldn't survive.

He nodded just a fraction in assent and I reached as though to take hold of his hand, but instead I brushed the very last of my magicka into his fingers and he disappeared from sight. I felt him move at once, darting through the ranks of dremora and trying to make his way to the stone floating above us.

"Get him," the leader ordered, irritated, and half the force split off to find him.

But the leader was walking toward me with a far too pleasant expression on his face, and when he was close enough he put out a hand and spun my necklace around so the star-shaped pendant glowed openly at my throat. "I was told about you," he said, and for a moment I was reminded of the vampire, and the illusion of civility while threats hung like knives in the air all around. "The Master is rather interested in you."

I didn't know if the Master was Dagon or someone else, but I hoped fervently never to find out. I tried to give nothing away, counting down the seconds of how much longer I could sustain the spell. "Why?"

He looked up above at where Darius had run. "You are already a servant of Dawn. And you keep returning to the Deadlands with an ancient weapon in your hands. Even the misinformed may be of use." He leaned closer and dropped his voice. "Your Lady cannot help you here."

He thought to frighten me, I think, as though I wasn't already almost too far gone for fear at all. He didn't expect me to smile, but I did: Darius was faster than the dremora, and he had the stone.

None of the dremora had time to react before the world began to shake, and I had the feeling of being hauled backward into darkness. I wriggled my way free of the hands that grasped at me as I was thrown clear of the collapsing gate, shoved through the barrier between worlds and landing on my hands and knees beside Darius on the road. I registered shakily that we were both alive and more or less in one piece, and that both gates were closed.

Darius was already scrambling to grab the stone that was rolling my direction and fling it away down the slope, but he needn't have worried. The lightheadedness that had dogged me for hours was overwhelming, and though it was late enough that the sky was dark and the stars shone overhead the world tilted and all I saw was white.


	26. Chapter 26

Coming back to consciousness was a bad idea. Of course, the only way I found out about this was by coming back to consciousness, but as soon as my eyes opened it just affirmed my suspicions about the entire thing being a bad idea. Waking up was a bad idea, going into Oblivion—twice—was a bad idea, and being dragged upstairs and getting jarred on every single step with Darius on one side of me and the Dunmer boy on the other wasn't a great idea either.

"I can walk," I managed, trying to get my feet under me, but it sounded more like a whine than the growl it had been in my head.

"You should have stayed unconscious," Darius sighed, unsteady with fatigue. "That arrow's not going to come out on its own."

Up in one of the little rooms they set me down on the floor as gently as possible. It was hard to think through the haze of pain and the feeling of blood pounding through my head, but I tried, which was a mistake, because all I could think about was how much I hated the little town of Aleswell and their stupid people and their stupid sheep that we'd gone into Oblivion for _twice_.

"This a healing potion?" Darius asked, holding out a little bottle for me to smell.

Aloe, and maybe lady's mantle. I rested my head on the blessedly cool planks of the floor. "Yes."

He set it up on the nearby dresser and sat back on his heels, looking queasy. "I don't know if I can do this."

The Dunmer made his way out of the room and I closed my eyes, listening to my heartbeat throb in my skull. "Just let me know when I need to scream my head off."

He laughed, bleakly. "I think it's worse if you know it's coming."

I cracked one eye open to glare at him. "If you try to _surprise _me you'll end up as gelded as your horse."

The Dunmer boy came back with a bottle of brandy, which I assumed was for me because I was the one lying on the floor with an arrow in my shoulder, but Darius uncorked it and took four long swallows before stopping to cough. "I can't do it."

"Just get it over with." I tried to take a deep breath, which was another bad idea. "The longer you don't do it the longer I have to hurt. If I could reach around and get it myself, I would."

He sighed, then looked over in the other direction, frowning. "What's that?"

I turned my head to see what he was looking at and felt his hand brace on my spine and the rip in my flesh as he yanked out the arrow. The world went red and I lurched up onto my hands and knees, shrieking every obscenity I knew and shaking with rage as much as with exhaustion and pain.

"Here," Darius said, smiling in relief and holding the bottle in the general area of my mouth. "You're going to have to stop cursing long enough to drink."

"It's not godsdamned funny," I insisted before the bottle was at my lips and I drank.

-oOo-

The next day was easier, though that wasn't difficult. The Dunmer had taken good care of our horses while we were in Oblivion and we headed out early, eating as we rode toward the Imperial City, looking at the countryside and watching the morning slip by. There were no more Oblivion gates, no more daedra, and no more assassins, which was just the way I liked it.

We left our horses at the stable just outside the city walls, and I don't know what Darius said to that stableboy but he looked terrified and nodded as quickly as he could. Darius still didn't seem satisfied as we walked away. _He grew up here_, I remembered. _He was raised in this stable_. But he didn't mention it, so I let the matter go and we walked into the City proper.

I know it probably sounds very provincial of me, but it's true: the Imperial City was grander than anything I'd ever seen. Mournhold may have been a close second, but the sheer scale of the Imperial City was overwhelming, majestic and alien and bustling with life. I was quiet as we walked down the streets, taking everything in as Darius pointed out places of interest as we walked up toward the Market District. I don't remember half of what he said; I was too busy watching the people. I had never seen so few Dunmer in one place before, and it seemed deeply odd. For once in my life, I was sort of in the majority, but instead of making me comfortable it just seemed to reinforce the fact that I was a long way from home.

It wasn't just Vvardenfell that I missed, though. I found myself, oddly enough, missing Mournhold, the great green walls and trees of the city and the smell of the flowering grasses. The whiteness of the Imperial City made it seem sterile in comparison.

But if I was in uncharted waters, Darius knew the city from top to bottom, and walked into the market district completely at ease. Better clothes, he said, were essential for when we met with Ocato, because while the High Chancellor wouldn't be fooled by appearances, he did appreciate the niceties of formality. We wouldn't do ourselves any favors showing up unannounced, ash-streaked, and smelling of Oblivion.

We took our purchases back to an inn and cleaned up, scrubbing until every bit of ash was gone, and he shaved while I rinsed the last of the dye from my hair. Since Darius had decided we'd go attempt to see the High Chancellor in the morning, it meant we had the last of the afternoon and evening to explore the Imperial City. It was a much more appealing prospect now that I didn't look like I'd just crawled out of a firepit.

We made our way together through the streets, looking around as I listened to Darius talk. It was a pleasant afternoon, and we were looking up at the dragon statue when I became aware that I was being watched, oddly, by an Imperial woman who looked familiar. Just as I had the thought that I should know her somehow, she walked over and began, "Excuse me, I know this must sound very strange, but you look _so_ familiar. Do you know Cienne Sintieve?"

Darius looked skeptical, as though expecting trouble, but I smiled back. "I'm her daughter, actually." Did half of Cyrodiil know my mother?

She smiled, an expression that lit up her entire face. "I thought so! It's Jena, dear. Jena Sintav." Of course I knew her, I realized, she was family. I'd seen her only months ago when she'd come to see Cedric. Before I could respond, she asked, "What in the world are you doing in the Imperial City?"

The truth was going to require more explaining than I wanted to do. I tried to think quickly, and managed, "I'm here to see… my mother. She moved to Skingrad." The last part was true, at least.

Jena beamed. "Oh, I know, she stayed with us for a week before she settled out there. She'll be so glad to see you." _I doubt it_, I thought, but Jena was sizing up Darius. "And who's your young man?"

Ridiculous as it was, I flushed. I'd known him for years, we'd been traveling together for months and sleeping with each other at every available opportunity and we were standing, at that very moment, arm in arm. But calling him _my young man_ seemed rather hasty. Fortunately Darius was good with people, because I was useless apparently, and he introduced himself using his real name, which gave me a moment's pause. But it was the Imperial City, and as he'd told me, more often than not people in Cyrodiil are only vaguely aware of what goes on in Morrowind. Jena didn't seem to have the slightest flicker of recognition at his name.

I'll never know how, but one way or another it was impressed upon us that it was absolutely essential we go have our evening meal with the Sintav clan, who'd be thrilled to see us. Yes, right now, Jena encouraged, come along like good ducklings. I hadn't the faintest idea what a duckling was and Darius only laughed when I asked, but I followed anyway, bewildered and faintly alarmed at the thought of Darius meeting my extended family.

-oOo-

I really wouldn't have recognized most of the Sintav clan on the street, and we'd never been close, but Jena tutted that family is family and distance didn't matter. Once we were ushered into a house it didn't seem to matter that I'd never seen most of them in my life. There were introductions and cheek-kisses all around, and before I could get my bearings or protest I was pulled into a kitchen with Jena and Carmana and away from Darius, who was left in the main room with the rest of the men.

"They came from Morrowind. To see Cienne." Jena grinned at Carmana.

Carmana laughed, a musical sound. "Really? A traditionalist, then?"

I only felt further away from home than ever. "Traditionalist?"

But Carmana's dark eyes were merry and she handed me a bundle of leeks, steering me in the direction of a nearby counter. "Chop those, would you, dear? He is a handsome thing, isn't he?"

"I think so," I said, cutting automatically and wondering if they were still talking about Darius. Jena laughed and I looked up. "What's funny?"

She leaned a hip on the counter, smiling and toying with a dishcloth. "It's just that Cienne was just telling me a few weeks ago that she figured you'd never marry, and here you are. She'll be so pleased."

I was so startled the knife slipped and clattered across the counter, scattering bits of leek. "It's not like that," I protested.

"It's not?" Jena chuckled at my expression. "I thought… there aren't many reasons a woman your age brings a man home to her mother. Especially not coming all the way from Morrowind to do it."

For a moment I wanted to explain about Helseth, about Azura and Caius and the journey that had led us here, but all I managed was another, "No. It's not like that." Jena and Carmana exchanged a wry look. "Really," I insisted.

Jena scooped the scattered leeks and dropped them into a pot. "Ah, well." She wiped her fingertips on the rough dishcloth. "Your mother will be pleased to see you anyway."

"Are you and my mother very close?" I ventured.

"I think so," she said. "As close as your mother lets anyone get, I suppose. She lived here, you know, before she left for Morrowind, when we were just girls. Not too long before she had you."

"She lived with you?" I never knew she'd stayed in the Imperial City at all.

"We shared a room, actually." Jena smiled, the corners of her eyes crinkling. "She stayed with us through that winter and most of the spring, her and your two uncles. I never got to know them as well, though. They were moody boys, always disappearing. Not much for conversation. But your mother… she's been a dear friend."

Through winter and spring of the year I was born, I thought. "Did she," I began, trying to look casual and failing. "Do you know if she had any sweethearts when she lived here?"

Jena's eyes were clear and green as glass, and I thought her expression went more knowing at the question. "Carmana, would you be a dear and go fetch the sapphire ring in my jewelry box for me? I'd like Alora to see it." Carmana nodded and bustled out, her skirts swishing around her ankles as she left.

"That's an interesting question," Jena said when the door was closed and we were alone. "Is there a particular reason you're asking?"

I ran a finger along the line of the dark old counter, not meeting her gaze. "It's…" When I looked up, she was watching me. "I have reason to believe my Fa wasn't really my father. I thought you might know who was," I finished. It was hard enough to think about Fa, but it was even harder to think I had loved him so dearly but wasn't carrying on anything of his, not his name, or his blood, or any of his skills to pass on to anyone else.

"Shouldn't you ask your mother?" Jena asked mildly.

I nodded. "I will if I have to. She never said anything about it, I thought… I don't know. How bad could it be?" I hadn't thought about it until I said it, but it occurred to me that if my mother really was a poisoner and had ties to the Dark Brotherhood, then it could be very bad indeed.

But Jena was shaking her head. "It's not bad. It's life. If she and Hromund hadn't found each other so quickly after and he hadn't adored you children so much, she might have told you long ago."

"You know, then?" I asked, watching her.

"I do," she admitted, moving over to stir at something I couldn't identify. "But you have to realize, this was what, twenty-eight years ago? A lot has changed since then. He's married, you know, with a family. And I don't think Cienne ever told him about you. I doubt showing up and announcing yourself is going to be the best way to handle this."

"I don't want to see him at all," I told her. "I just want a name. Brennan's the one who wants to know. As far as I'm concerned, Fa was the only father I'll ever care about."

She leaned against the counter, looking at me. "Understand that it's not common knowledge by any means. Jastia and I know, and Cienne knows, of course, but that's as far as it goes, I think." I nodded, and she went on, "His name's Hastrel Ottus. He lives here in the Imperial City. And for the time your mother lived with us, she never had eyes for anyone else."

I repeated the name silently, turning it over in my mind and searching for any flicker of meaning, but they were just empty words. "Thank you," I said, thinking. "For telling me. It'll ease Brennan's mind to know."

She nodded, perturbed, and glanced at the door. "I'd best go fetch Carmana. She's a lovely girl, truly, but she'll starve to death up there before she works out that there's no sapphire ring in that jewelry box."

-oOo-

Fortunately dinner didn't require too much of me. During the meal the conversation stuck largely to Imperial City matters that I wasn't expected to know anything about. Darius managed to chat easily enough with everyone, and it was another reminder that he'd grown up here and knew a majority of these names, these people, and how they related to one another. He was better with my family than I was, in truth, but it went well anyway. Evening faded into night and we left, promising to return and thanking them for the hospitality. Darius and I ambled down the road until he asked, "Are you all right? You've been quiet."

I thought for a moment, trying to figure out where to start. "Do you know Hastrel Ottus?"

He looked curious. "Not well, but we've met. Why?"

"Jena said he's my father." I didn't even think of keeping it from Darius. He had nothing to lose from the information, and besides, other than Brennan I think he was closer to me than anyone in the world. I shook my head. "Sorry. I didn't tell you about Fa—"

"Brennan told me," Darius said. At my questioning look, he continued, "At Buckmoth. I had to pry the bottle out of his hands because we had to head out early the next morning and he told me everything."

"Oh." I looked up at the scudding clouds, filmy gray against the black sky. "I didn't know you knew."

"I thought that if you wanted to talk about it, you would." He shrugged a little. "But Hastrel… I don't know him well. Quiet man. Religious, I think. Used to have a little bay mare he'd ride every now and then, and he treated her well. Other than that, I don't really know." He was quiet a moment, thinking, then laughed a little. "You do know who he's married to, don't you?"

I shook my head.

He grinned. "You know the woman who wrote those awful guidebooks?" At my expression, he laughed. "That would make her your stepmother, I think."

I swallowed around the sudden thickness in my throat. "Just as well I don't intend to have any family reunions then, isn't it?" I managed, and then reconsidered the statement in light of where we'd just been. "The Sintavs didn't ask you anything embarrassing, did they?"

He laughed, looking wry. "They seemed to have the wrong idea about why we were here."

I tried not to cringe. "What did you tell them?"

He smirked. "That I thought you might have your eye set on an older man."

I flushed. "Darius."

His smile went wicked. "You know Caius is really, really old."

"Oh gods." I could feel heat creeping along my cheeks and managed, "_How_ old?"

"I don't know," he laughed. "You could always cut him open and count the rings."

-oOo-

The next morning we rose early and headed off to the palace to meet the High Chancellor. Darius informed the steward of our arrival and we were invited to wait in the atrium. After twenty minutes or so of trying to look around and take everything in, I could hear footsteps approaching. An impeccably dressed Imperial of indeterminate middle age walked in, looking over the both of us guardedly. "Darius Apinia, I presume? And you would be the priestess. Weren't you traveling with another, as well?"

Darius rose to his feet, and automatically I followed suit. "Yes," said Darius. "I have urgent business with the High Chancellor concerning the situation in Morrowind."

"You're the Nerevarine," the Imperial said, not a question.

Darius hesitated. "Yes."

"You were traveling with a former Blade, were you not? Caius Cosades?"

I could hear more footsteps coming, now, heavy and metallic on the marble floor.

"Former?" Darius repeated, looking confused.

"He stands accused of treason and regicide," the other man said. "And we were informed of your probable arrival." Doors opened into the atrium, from behind us and at our sides, and at least a dozen guards hurried in, most of them with their weapons readied.

"I think there's been some sort of mistake," Darius said slowly, his voice flat with anger.

"I don't believe so," the older man said. "We were informed that the three of you conspired to murder King Helseth and Queen Barenziah. In your absence from Mournhold, an investigation into the matter has confirmed your guilt and we were warned that you might seek an audience with the High Chancellor to assassinate him as well. You're to be taken into custody immediately." At his gesture, guards stepped forward and a pair of them pulled my arms behind my back, putting something cold and metal around my wrists. Across the room Darius looked murderous for a moment and I feared he'd try to fight them all even though there were too many, but he submitted and allowed them to put irons around his wrists as well. "You're making a mistake," he insisted. "I must speak with the High Chancellor."

"That isn't going to happen," the other man said to Darius. "The penalty for regicide is death. We've granted Almalexia's request to have you extradited to Morrowind to face judgment there. Your advisor will be executed at dawn tomorrow."

With that we were led away in opposite directions, looking over our shoulders at each other, horrified.


	27. Chapter 27

_The Imperial City prison is no picnic_, Caius had told me. He was right. There weren't any female guards, apparently, so I had to strip down to my skin and change into prisoner's garb in front of a pair of men. I was too much in shock to be embarrassed and they seemed merely bored, but it was still unnerving and the entire situation had me so off-balance I couldn't think.

"Are you hiding anything in your hair?" one of them asked.

I hadn't known you could do that. "No."

"Take it down, please."

It was coiled in a little knot at the back of my neck, but I unpinned it and one of the guards took the hairpins from me one at a time as they came free. I shook my hair out to prove there wasn't anything in it and they seemed to be satisfied.

"Are you a mage?"

I hesitated, and settled for the half-lie, "I've never had any formal training." A tutor didn't count, not really. Formal training came from the Mages Guild, and I'd never been a member. _Sorceress_, I remembered Caius say, and drew myself up a little taller.

"Your necklace," one of the guards said, holding out a hand to take it.

I put a hand up to it, unwilling to let it go. "It's not just a necklace," I began, trying to think.

"You're not allowed to keep anything. If you don't remove it willingly I'll have to remove it by force."

And if the guard removed it, I thought, he'd probably just snap the chain. I unfastened the little clasp and the star fell away from my skin with a tiny lurching feeling like I'd lost something. Without it, I felt more naked than I had when I'd simply been undressed.

I was escorted down a long hallway of cells, and though I didn't do a lot of looking into each one I did notice that about half of them were empty. When they indicated my cell I walked in, and they locked the door behind me and left. There was a rather tatty-looking Khajiit in the cell across from me, but he glanced at me only once, wholly without interest, and didn't say a word.

I stood still for a few minutes, not knowing what to do. I tried backing up as far as I could and jumping to see out the window but it was too high. I could see a small patch of sky, and nothing else. I didn't want to use any spells on the bars or walls because the magicka I had available now was finite, and in any case, surely they'd have built the prison to withstand spellcasters. I did try a very small alteration spell, just the barest trace of magicka from my fingers probing into the lock, but it did nothing. It seemed to be shielded somehow, which I suppose is very clever for a lock design but not particularly helpful for anyone trying to break out.

I sat down, folding my hands in my lap, the numbness of earlier wearing off as I realized I was going to die.

I missed Caius more fervently than ever. Not only because of the thought that somehow he'd be able to get us out of here—even he must have his limits, I knew—but because it had been easy to follow his lead, even in the worst of times. With Darius it felt more like both of us were fumbling along in the dark trying to find our way through, with both of us leading and following in turns, and look where it had got us.

I wondered who had spread the word that Caius was a traitor.

Prison was not a quiet place. Inmates spoke and shouted and relieved themselves, and a couple of times someone I couldn't see seemed to throw a tantrum because there was the wooden sound of furniture breaking and then the stern voices of guards. The second time it happened, I think they took his furniture away, because it didn't happen again. There was the low sound, every now and then, of guards speaking to each other behind a door at the end of the hall, but I couldn't ever make out what they were saying.

As evening deepened into night the noises stopped almost altogether and I decided not to sit and wait for my fate to come get me. Even if it was futile, I should at least try something. I found a straight sliver of bone half-hidden in the dust of the floor, and without giving much thought to whether it was the bone of a man or a mer or an animal I crept over to the lock, curling up close to the bars and pushing the bone in as far as it would go.

Making my peace with the gods was all well and good but it wasn't going to get me out of there.

Caius had made it look so easy, just a couple light movements and locks would spring free under his touch, but I couldn't manage to move anything that made any sense to me. I had only the vaguest idea of how locks were constructed and so didn't know the first thing about picking them, but it was a puzzle to keep my brain occupied instead of thinking about how dark the sky was and how close my execution might be.

It was very late and I was still at it when one of the inmates started speaking again, low and distressed, protesting over and over that he wasn't a murderer. Someone else was talking, too, I realized, but he was speaking so quietly I couldn't hear what he said. But eavesdropping was a distraction, and if I got distracted I'd never figure out the lock.

It took me utterly by surprise a few minutes later when a man's voice addressed me from just inches away. "If you had a thousand years and a million lockpicks, you'd still never be able to open that door."

I jerked back in surprise as the spell he was holding wore off and the dark man from Cheydinhal came into view, crouched down lightly at my level, black robes pooling on the stone at his feet. "I don't have a thousand years," I managed, little louder than a whisper. "I'm being executed at dawn."

He considered me a moment. "If you're fool enough to allow yourself to get trapped, you deserve whatever happens to you." He straightened smoothly and cast a spell, vanishing from sight.

Ordinarily I would never have done it, I think, but dawn was only a few hours away. That lock was never going to budge, I had nothing left to lose and if there was ever a time to gamble, it was now. "Your pet vampire's an idiot," I told him. He wasn't completely invisible and I knew where to look; I saw the shimmer of his figure in the air, and could tell when he stopped short. "The next time you have to threaten an alchemist into working with you," I continued, barreling on, "make sure you send someone who can recognize a basic restoration potion when it's brewed right under their nose."

His spell dissipated as he crouched in front of me again, a cold expression on his face. "You must think you're very clever."

"Clever enough," I retorted, any fear I'd had melting away under the force of the hot anger welling up from my belly. At the dark man, at the guards, at Almalexia who I was going to kill at the first opportunity I got, at Azura who'd seen fit to let me get dragged literally to hell and back and to leave me to die in a prison far from home.

"If you were clever enough you wouldn't be in prison for a crime you didn't commit," the man said. "Did you tamper with the poison?"

I smiled unpleasantly, lying through my teeth. "It wasn't really a poison." If he got angry enough to try and kill me, he couldn't do it through the bars, I thought. He'd have to open the door, and if he did I could make a run for it.

But his hand was through the bars and around my throat before I could see him move, clamping down like a steel vise. "Don't lie to me," he warned.

"Or else _what_?" I choked out. "You'll kill me?"

He released me and I fell back onto my elbows a moment before I could scramble upright. "Death might not seem much of a threat in light of your impending execution," he allowed. "But if you've deceived us I can certainly make the last few hours of your life very, _very_ unpleasant."

I laughed bitterly, rubbing my throat and hoping I could get him to open the damned door. "I've been to Oblivion and back three times this month," I bit out. "You think a man with a knife is going to scare me?"

His eyes narrowed. "You speak very boldly for a simple priestess."

"You're assuming I'm a simple priestess," I retorted.

"If you're more than that, I've not heard." He glanced down the hall before looking back at me. "You've killed before, haven't you?"

"Yes," I said coolly.

He thought for a moment, seeming to mull something over. "It's a pity you're already given to Azura," he said at last. "Otherwise you might have been useful enough to free."

He stood, turning, and vanished, the outline of his shape moving out of sight and leaving me alone again. I glanced up at the patch of sky I could see through my window and immediately regretted it because it was even later than I'd thought. I turned back to the lock with the bone and a ferocious concentration, trying to think of anything other than the clock in my head, ticking out the dwindling minutes until dawn.

-oOo-

Another half hour passed before the hall door opened and I heard footsteps coming my way: the heavy footfalls of guards and another set, scuffing along quicker and lighter on the stone floor. I stood up, tossing the worn sliver of bone into the back of the room, and had just turned back to the bars when Darius came into view. "Hey," he said, taking in the sight of me. "You're not hurt?"

"No," I said, not daring to put out a hand and touch him or feel the slightest shred of relief. "What's going on?"

A pair of guards came into sight, one sliding keys along a keyring. "I'll tell you as soon as we're out of here," Darius promised.

After my door was opened I was led down the long hallway. One of the guards walked in front of us and the other one between us, so I couldn't really see Darius, but from the little glimpses I could catch of his expression he didn't seem afraid. Things must have taken a turn for the better, I thought, and hoped fervently it was true. My clothes were given back to me in a bundle and we were escorted out of the prison and into the night without explanation, through the dark, quiet streets of the city and through district after district until we were at the inn. The publican was awake and had our belongings ready, and we shouldered our packs and continued on with the guards. In front of a house that looked to me like any other house, the guards stopped and produced a key, opening the door and telling Darius, "This is it. Remember the arrangement."

Darius took my hand and led me inside, and behind us the door was shut and bolted. I cast a small light spell, barely enough to illuminate the front room. From what I could tell, it was a perfectly ordinary house. Darius was still holding my hand, and when I looked up at him he was watching me, concerned. "You're sure you're all right?"

I tried to smile but it came out weak. "I'm fine. What's going on?"

He shook his head. "Let's get our stuff put away. We're not really out of this yet." I followed him up a staircase and into the upper floor of the house, setting my pack down beside his.

"I managed to convince a guard to get a message to Ocato," Darius began tiredly. "He didn't even know we were here; he hadn't been told at all. Once he knew he agreed to meet with me. I told him what's happened with the daedra in Morrowind, with Almalexia, the attacks at Khuul and Thirsk, everything. I don't know that he's entirely convinced," he admitted. "But Ocato tends to err on the side of caution. He's agreed that the investigation in Mournhold, the one that found us guilty, is probably tainted. He's agreed to have another investigation conducted. We're not free to go—we're still technically in custody—but we're just under house arrest for now. If we're cleared, we can leave. If not…" he sighed.

"It's certainly an improvement," I told him.

"For now," he said, still not comfortable with it. He frowned and touched the side of my throat lightly, brushing along a tender-feeling spot that must have bruised. "You _did_ get hurt."

"What did you have to do to get that guard to talk to Ocato?" I asked, turning away to pull off the rough sackcloth clothes and suppressing the urge to scratch where they prickled along my skin.

"Nothing too terrible," he smiled. "I can be persuasive when I need to. And eventually I got my ring back, and it helped." _I'll bet it did_, I thought, remembering the guards in Mournhold who'd meekly opened the gates for him. But the mention of his ring made me think of my necklace, and I fished it out of the bundle and slid it into place, fastening the clasp with a feeling of relief as magicka began trickling back.

There was something apologetic in the way he was looking at me that I didn't like. "I'm sorry about this," he told me, his voice low and tired. "I should have thought enough to leave you in safety and not take you in there. I didn't think about what sort of danger we might be walking into."

"Darius," I said, "You have _got_ to stop apologizing." At his look of surprise I went on, "This is the second time. You make it sound like you've dragged me across Tamriel unwilling and it's not true or fair. I'd like to think I'm more of an equal partner in this and not some half-wit tag along, you know?"

"You _are_ an equal partner," he said, a little aggrieved, "and it's not fair to argue when you don't have clothes on."

I laughed at that, and closed the distance between us to kiss him, smiling a little again when I felt his hands come to rest at my sides as though he didn't know where else to put them. "I thought you'd be tired by now," he said a little breathlessly.

"I thought I'd be dead by now. I can sleep in an hour." I was tired, actually, but I was also starting to feel the full brunt of all that had happened. I'd really, _really_ not wanted to die, and so I threw myself in the opposite direction, which was life, and Darius, and the fierce joy of coaxing his mouth open while I tugged at the fastenings of his shirt, taking what happiness we could, while we could.

-oOo-

An hour later we still weren't asleep. When morning light started peeking through the windows I smiled, looking out at what I could see of the city painted in the warm colors of sunrise. "I was supposed to be dying about now," I mused, smiling fondly down at Darius' hair as he kissed a line down my breastbone.

He glanced up at me, annoyed. "I'm trying not to think about that, thank you."

"Sorry." I laughed. "It's just that I don't know how the Empire executes its criminals, but this is far preferable to what I thought I'd be doing about this time."

He sighed a little and I could tell it meant _can we please not talk about being executed anymore?_ "Death by bedding wouldn't be a very effective deterrent to crime."

"Probably not," I conceded, and I had to laugh as a thought occurred to me out of the blue. "Just think, if they'd sent someone else from the temple to look after you in the first place you could be rolling around naked with a six hundred-year-old Dunmer woman right now."

He stared at me, laughing in disbelief. "What?"

"Well, if not me, it would have been someone else," I pointed out. "And you might have been with her instead of me."

He snorted, and the huff of breath tickled on my chest. "They have lots of pretty Bretons at the temple, then? Because you're the only one I ever saw there."

"We keep them in the back room, away from lechers and Imperials."

"When they're not dangling you out there like carrots," he said wryly, and kissed me.

"Why would you dangle a carrot?" I asked, bewildered, as soon as he pulled away.

He stilled and sighed against my neck. "You'd dangle a carrot to get a dumb animal to walk where you want it to go. It's bait."

"Oh," I said, thinking it made sense until the implications of what he was getting at hit me. "Are you saying that all that time... everything I did... you think I was just _bait_?" He didn't have to say yes; his expression was answer enough, and it made my blood boil. I pulled out of his arms as fast as I could, so outraged I could hardly think.

"Wait," he said, and when I didn't, "_Listen_ to me." I hesitated, which was encouragement enough for him to go on, "You don't understand. I _hated_ Morrowind, you know that. I hated the entire idea of prophecy. I especially hated Azura, because I have to think She's the reason why I grew up without a family and why I was arrested and taken from Cyrodiil, why I was forced into the Blades and dragged from one end of Vvardenfell to another. I hated it. _All _of it."

I waited in stiff silence for him to get to the point.

He sighed. "When you started showing up… later, when it wasn't just handing me potions and getting me turned in the right direction. When it was helping me figure out prophecy and working through all the politics, I realized the more you were around the less I hated the idea of being Nerevarine. And I thought about why they'd send you and not some dried up stick of an ancient Dunmer, when women like you have to be something of a rarity."

"I was on my own for a while," I told him, my voice cold. "In the wilderness, before I went to the temple. I know the land and how to get around. That's why they sent me."

"You were bait," he said again. "Tell me there weren't a dozen other priestesses I wouldn't have looked twice at that would have been better guides than you were."

I couldn't; I'd told him as much myself months ago. I'd half-known it before, but having it laid out as though it were patently obvious stung bitterly.

"You were a tool," he said, so fondly it almost took the sting out of the words. "A carrot to get me to go where I was supposed to go. And it worked. I went." He shrugged. "You know how this works. We're in service to a Daedra. We're just pawns in a game we don't even know the rules of."

I took a few breaths, trying to gain some measure of equilibrium, but it seemed impossible. Too much had happened—that day, that week, that decade—and if there was any measure of serenity I'd once had as a priestess, I seemed to have lost it. "Why are you here, then?" I asked, a little faintly. "Why are you here, in bed with me, if I'm just bait and we're just pawns?"

"Because you're not just anything." The brightening morning light seemed to edge parts of him in gold, throwing other parts into shadow. "You never have been, not to me. You were my friend when I didn't have anyone else in the world. You taught me how to live when all I wanted was to give up." He shook his head, dissatisfied. "There's no _just_ to it. Even if we are pawns, the both of us, this pawn is glad to have met you."

My anger evaporated until there was nothing left. "I'm glad to have met you, too."

His thoughts seemed to turn inward, and when he looked at me again his eyes were unreadable. "If I asked you," he began, watching me closely. "To leave the temple. To stay with me. Would you do it?"

I don't know why but there were tears in my eyes and in my throat, unexpected and making it hard to breathe. "Yes," I told him, after a minute. "I would. Are you asking?"

"No," he assured me at once. "Not yet. Not now. And if you don't want to leave I'll… I don't know. I'll go up there to the temple and the High Priestess can throw me out on my ear every morning."

I smiled a little in spite of myself at the thought of it. Darius smiled too, a little crookedly, and when he reached out for me again I didn't hesitate.


	28. Chapter 28

The house was more comfortable than prison had been, but we'd been on the move so long it still felt confining to be kept in one place while our fates were decided. We had been allowed a few indulgences, though. We couldn't have visitors but we were permitted to get the newspaper, and after a request was sent out the next morning we had stacks of them spread out on the large table downstairs, of every edition we could get our hands on.

We pored over them for much of the morning, looking for anything that stood out, but mostly there was very little. The Courier seemed to deal almost exclusively with Cyrodiilic matters, and most of the time the focus was narrowed to only the Imperial City. We read it anyway, scouring the pages for significant details, and though I knew I should just be skimming, I couldn't help but read more deeply because Cyrodiil was just so different. Some of the stories were strictly factual, some were funny, and some, like the assassination edition itself, made me think.

"How is it that none of the Emperor's grown sons were married and had children of their own?" I asked Darius. "They were old enough to be grandfathers."

Darius looked up, pensive. "I don't know," he said after a moment. "If I had to guess, it would be something to do with the succession, but it does seem strange, doesn't it?"

"It does." But so much of Cyrodiil seemed strange, to me. "Did Ocato say anything about who might take the throne of Morrowind?"

He flipped over a page. "No. I think he's got his hands full with Cyrodiil at the moment. The provinces are going to have to wait. But they're not going to wait forever. Elsweyr is really hurting, I think, and things are unstable everywhere. But no, Ocato didn't even know Vivec had died."

"Do you," I began, and winced when I thought better of the question after it was half out of my mouth. But at Darius' curious look, I continued. "I hate to ask. But do you know how he died? Was it another assassination?"

"No." Darius shook his head, a faraway expression on his face. "From what I could tell, he died in his sleep. He was the only one of the Tribunal to die in peace."

Someone knocked on the door and he frowned, getting to his feet and walking out of sight, and I started scanning my new paper for any useful information. A half-hearted article on the Gray Fox didn't seem to be particularly relevant, and nothing else in the paper seemed helpful at all, so I had already set that edition aside when Darius came back around the corner, looking wry.

"What?" I asked.

"Stop me if you've heard this one before," he said. "We've got a package from Caius Cosades."

"We what?" I eyed the envelope in his hands.

"No, wait," he corrected himself. "Not us. You."

"Me?" He handed off the envelope and it was right there, my name in Caius' precise writing on the front. I took it from Darius' hands. "Why would he send it to _me_?"

He looked amused. "I imagine if you open it and read it, you might find out. The wrapping is only going to tell you so much."

I glared at him mildly, noticing that the seal on the envelope had already been cracked and opening the pages inside.

"Let me guess," Darius grinned as he sat back down. "'Dear Alora, what are you wearing?'"

I glared at him again and tried to come up with a decent response to that, but when my eye caught the words on the page I realized they weren't really words and I stopped, puzzled.

"What does it say?" he asked, leaning over to see.

"I haven't the faintest idea," I said, wrinkling my nose in confusion. "I think it's… it looks like it's encoded."

"It probably is," Darius allowed. "Did he ever teach you how to decode a letter?"

"No," I admitted. "You?"

He looked bewildered. "No."

I dropped the pages to the table. "Why would he send us an encoded letter neither of us knows how to decode?"

Darius rolled his eyes. "Because it's Caius, and he's a bastard. It's just the way things are."

I looked to see if there was anything in the envelope I'd missed that might be helpful. There wasn't.

"But he didn't send _us_ an encoded letter," Darius said thoughtfully. "He sent _you_ an encoded letter. Which means that whatever it is, he expects you to be able to figure it out."

"No pressure," I grumbled, frowning at the apparent gibberish on the pages. "Dammit, Caius."

Darius just smirked. "Now you know how I felt."

I shuffled the little pages, trying to see if there was anything understandable on them but nothing stood out. "I don't even know where to begin," I told him. "I haven't done word-puzzles in years, and nothing like this." I glanced up at Darius, despairing a little, but he merely shrugged. "I'm going to need paper," I decided, "and ink. And a rope so that when I see Caius again I can strangle him."

-oOo-

There were three small pages in all, with Caius' neat writing on one side only. At the end of the text was a rough circle of letters, and that was it. I really hoped the message wasn't time-sensitive, because if it was we were out of luck.

I glared at the pages and wrote out half-conceived ideas onto a scrap of paper, keeping up a running tirade of lukewarm curses against Caius in my head. Perhaps unsurprisingly, none of this did much to crack the code.

It was almost an hour before I noticed the line, written in the smallest possible letters at the very bottom edge on the back of the first page, looking more like an accidental ink stroke at first than readable text. But when it caught my attention I held it up to the light, squinting to try and make it out, and when I finally was able to read it I laughed in surprise.

Darius looked up from the newspaper on the table. "Something funny?"

I grinned, echoing him from earlier. "Stop me if you've heard this one: _The dream is the door and the star is the key_."

He blinked. "You're kidding."

"I'm not," I assured him. "It's right here." I hesitated. "I think I'm beginning to hate that man."

Darius snorted and turned back to his paper.

I frowned, biting the inside of my mouth and thinking aloud. "I don't know what it means, though. Last time it indicated that the door would only open for you at particular times. And it was Azura's star then but I can't even leave the house to _see_ Azura's star now. The bit about dreams doesn't make any sense, either." I scowled down at the pages, trying to tear the riddle apart and figure it out but it was maddeningly elusive.

After a few minutes Darius laughed a little, quietly, and when I looked up at him he looked thoughtful. "Caius is saying that the star is the key."

I frowned. "Supposedly."

He shook his head. "It's got to be your necklace."

"It's…" I put a hand up, automatically, feeling the little pendant. "Oh," I managed.

Now that he'd said it it seemed not just likely but obvious. And of course, Darius was right. The letters in the circle were irregular, but so was the star, and after a moment I managed to get the tips of the star arms aligned perfectly with the letters. Now that they were lined up I could see the pattern. The facets of the pendant didn't go directly across from one side to the other; they curved from point to point, the lines they made never reaching the center of the star. On another piece of paper I copied the figure, the circle of letters and the lines connecting them, and when I looked again at the encoded letter, it started to make sense.

The first word was my name, a simple substitution of this letter for that one along the lines of the star. Quill in hand, I leaned over the papers and started trying to tease out a solution.

-oOo-

It took me the rest of the day to decode the message. Darius, for his part, left me alone, going about his day reading the newspapers and writing letters so quietly it never broke my focus, for which I was grateful. It was already evening by the time I set aside my quill and said, "I think I've got it."

Darius crossed the room to settle across the table from me, expectant. "What's it say?"

I took a sip of tea that had long gone cold and read it aloud. "_Alora, clever girl, I have riddles for you._

_"What do you call a temple that is not a temple? Answer: the birthplace of lies, and of liars._

_"What do you call a tribunal of one? Answer: a revolution unborn._

_"When is a daughter not a daughter? Answer: when she is her mother._

_"I have traveled long and far over land and sea and have fewer answers than questions. I have stood under the Parasols and seen fourfold reflections of one dead face, and I have seen the same again elsewhere. Nothing lasts forever but not all endings are natural._

_"The most devastating wars go undeclared. Do you remember? 'All warfare is based on deception.' A shadow doesn't always reflect the shape of the caster, and in darkness one hand can be blind to the actions of the other. In the city of light they whisper of you, calling you the accuser of gods. Rumors are creeping vines that weaken the foundation of a tower weapons could never breach. Your tantrum may have done more good than you know._

_"The hourglass is sealed and split by three, and the mark is as nameless as its bearer. Nothing lasts forever but not all endings are natural._

_"In a dark heart of Imperial power I met a son of mercy who waits for you at your between times at the border between the dragon and the separating sea. Find him to find me. The burrow isn't quite the same without you. Bring our Saint. It's time he had some resolution, don't you think? Be well, and travel swiftly._

_"In hope and purpose, Caius_."

I let the pages fall to the tabletop, and looked over at Darius, who looked horrified. "Not enough to just write the damn thing in _code_," he said. "He's got to write it in _riddles_, too."

"It's… cryptic," I allowed, glancing over the decoded letter again with uncertainty. "But we figured out the letter, we can figure out the riddles, too." He wouldn't send us something so dense it couldn't be deciphered, I hoped. "We'll just have to go over it line by line."

Darius pushed to his feet, looking irritated and muttering as he left the room. "You all right?" I called after him.

"Fine," he called back. "It's going to be one of those nights, though, I can already tell. I'm going to try and find something stronger than tea. And it might be time for that rope."

-oOo-

"Well," I began when he returned, "let's start with what's obvious."

Darius laughed, a little incredulous. "Obvious. Sure, we can start there. You go first."

I pushed up from the table stiffly, stretching. "Well, there are some things we can probably get right off if we just think. The 'temple that isn't a temple' line. We can probably assume Caius found that temple, and that it wasn't what he'd expected. But that tells us it's a real place, and that he knows the location, and that's information we didn't have before. And 'the birthplace of lies and liars' sounds to me like this is where the plot to introduce the impostor was either conceived or carried out or both. If we know that, we might be able to determine who the person or group is who put her in place based on their location. Or at least narrow it down."

He looked pensive.

"How close _is_ she?" I asked absently, thinking. "The impostor Almalexia to the real one? Physically, I mean."

When I turned back to Darius and saw his expression, I realized how it must have come out. When I laughed, it was tight with embarrassment. "Sorry. I didn't mean it that way. Never mind."

"No," he said, recovering. "You just caught me off guard. She's… um." He laughed a little, half despairing. "She's close. Not exact. There are some pretty telling differences."

"I wondered," I said before I could stop myself.

But Darius was watching me, looking grim. "She tried one night, you know. The impostor did. Thought if she could get me in bed with her I'd cooperate and forget about little things like being imprisoned and told you'd been tortured and killed." He laughed, a short sound utterly without humor. "It didn't work, for some reason."

I let out a deep breath, trying to shake myself back to the matter at hand. "I don't know _anything_ about a tribunal of one or a daughter that's not a daughter. And the 'traveling far over land and sea' seems straightforward enough. I think that's just truth, not riddle." I bit my mouth, thinking. "The Parasols, though… I think he means emperor parasols, the mushrooms the Telvanni favor."

He looked thoughtful. "That sounds right."

I scanned the rest of the page. "Other than that…" I winced a little. "The next thing that makes sense is the tantrum reference, but I don't think that's really a riddle, either."

Darius glanced up at me, musing. "What did he say about that, exactly?"

I read it back. "_In the city of light they whisper of you, calling you the accuser of gods. Rumors are creeping vines that weaken the foundation of a tower weapons could never breach. Your tantrum may have done more good than you know."_

He tapped fingers lightly on the edge of the table. "I don't think it's a riddle, but he wouldn't have put it in there if it wasn't important. The city of light is Mournhold, obviously." He narrowed his eyes, thinking. "If he's saying what I think he's saying, there are rumors in Mournhold that might be weakening the Temple." At my curious look he explained, "You named her my betrayer in front of an entire district of people on the steps of her own temple and she did nothing. Believe me, the real Almalexia would have killed you on the spot. But the impostor didn't do anything, and if that's become a topic of conversation in Mournhold, then people are going to wonder why."

I nodded, thinking. "That's reasonable." And good news, too, which was a relief. "Anything else?"

He frowned a little. "Let me see those." I handed the pages over and he scanned them quickly. "The heart of Imperial power's the Imperial City, of course. And 'nothing lasts forever but not all endings are natural' is in here twice, so it's got to be important."

"Or he means it in two different ways," I agreed.

"Could be. Unless he's going senile. He's really old, you know; I don't know what you see in him," Darius smirked across the table.

"This from a man who's a living first-era artifact," I retorted.

A wry smile pulled at the corner of his mouth. "Would that make you an antiques collector?"

I didn't know why in the world he thought it was so funny to needle me about Caius as much as Caius had ever needled him, but it had never failed to provoke me. I shrugged my shoulders in a vain attempt to look nonchalant. "Everyone needs a hobby."

Darius laughed heartily and the room felt light again, somehow. "Can we get back to the letter now, please?" I asked, my cheeks warm.

But no matter how much we stared at it we couldn't come to any more conclusions, and I began to worry that Caius had overestimated our ability to figure out his riddles.

-oOo-

Two hours before dawn I jerked awake, sitting straight up in bed with the force of sudden revelation. "Corprus," I said dully, wondering why I hadn't seen it before because it was so obvious.

Darius stirred a little and mumbled, "You don't have corprus."

But I was already bolting out of bed and out the door, tripping downstairs and failing to skid to a full stop before I crashed into the table. A too-eager light spell made the room as bright as midday and I snatched up the decoded papers, searching for the words I wanted and why hadn't I figured it would be the fetching _Telvanni_?

"You think it's something to do with _corprus_?" Darius asked, coming down the stairs.

"Not corprus, the Corprusarium. With his… oh, what's his name?" My mind was clicking along too fast; my mouth couldn't keep up.

Darius blinked, trying to think through the haze of sleep. "Divayth Fyr?"

"Yes," I seized on the name immediately. "But not him, his _daughters_. Because they weren't his daughters at all, they were copies of him, remember? Just female."

Any lingering sleepiness evaporated immediately. Darius sat down heavily at the table. "Oh, _hell_."

"That's got to be it," I insisted. "_Fourfold reflections of one dead face_."

"He's not dead, though."

"I think he is. _Nothing lasts forever but not all endings are natural_, see? I think he's been murdered, and I think our impostor is a copy. And look. When is a daughter not a daughter? When she _is her mother_. A copy. The Almalexia in Necrom and the Almalexia in Mournhold are copies, not just mother and daughter like we thought," I finished in a rush, almost babbling in my hurry to get the words out before they evaporated. "And it explains Necrom. She said she'd had daughters—plural—that had been taken from her. Which means that if they're using the same method to create copies of her as Fyr used then there's more Almalexias out there than just the two we know about."

Darius gaped.

I flipped through my pages, scanning quickly. "That's _got_ to be it."

"I thought they were born in a jar," he protested faintly. "That's what he told me, anyway."

"It's an oversimplification," I said hurriedly. "I asked one of the daughters about it while you were down in the Corprusarium and they said they were made in external apparatuses but the process of incubation takes too long to be reasonably sustainable by a magical construct. It's simpler to put the created material into a living incubator."

It didn't answer all the questions quite as neatly as I'd have liked but the bones of the solution were right, I could feel it.

He stared at me. "Why would Fyr be in on _this_, though? He wouldn't have anything to gain from making impostors."

"Maybe not," I admitted. "But maybe. If an impostor Almalexia came to power, he'd literally be her creator, and that's a hell of a lot of leverage. But even if he didn't do it, it doesn't mean someone else couldn't have used his methods. It's not like he kept his daughters a secret."

He frowned. "But if they're copies, who's the original? I don't think it could be the real Almalexia."

"I don't know," I admitted, trying to think and coming up empty-handed.

Darius nodded, slowly. "Anything else?"

My mind raced, flickers of half-formed thoughts whirling through my head, trying to settle as I stared back down at the letter. "It's Ebonheart."

His eyebrows drew together in confusion. "What's Ebonheart?"

"A dark heart of Imperial power. It's a diversion. Not _the_ heart; _a_ heart. _Dark heart_ is Ebonheart, the center of Imperial power—"

"On Vvardenfell," Darius finished quickly. He grinned suddenly and shook his head. "I think I understand why he sent this to _you_."

I grinned back in response, unaccountably pleased. "Ebonheart, then. _In a dark heart of Imperial power I met a son of mercy who waits for you at your between times at the border between the dragon and the separating sea._ So a son of mercy is waiting for us in Ebonheart, and _my between times_ have to be dawn and dusk. Between the dragon and the separating sea… that's literal; between the dragon statue and the Inner Sea is the docks. But the son of mercy…" I trailed off, thinking, and had a flash of memory: Caius, handing me my letters from Brennan and Fena, already read, and then later on horseback, smirking _I have an idea of where I might find some allies_.

And Brennan was in Ebonheart, a priest of Stendarr. _Son of mercy_. "Oh, hell," I managed. "I think it's my brother."

Darius opened his mouth to say something reassuring but closed it again without speaking. "If 'son of mercy' means priest, Brennan would have more reason than anyone to want to help you," he said.

"If he's dragged my brother into danger I'll have his head on a plate," I snapped. Adults or no, Brennan was still my little brother and some habits run too deep to die.

Darius blinked in surprise. "Caius wouldn't let him get hurt."

I raised an eyebrow. "That's not what you told me in Mournhold. You said not to trust him because he would use me and put me in danger." He didn't have an answer for that. I blew out a heavy breath, turning balefully back to the letter. "Right. In Ebonheart, Brennan—or probably Brennan—is waiting at the docks at dusk and dawn to take us to Caius. Because it says _find him to find me_. But Caius isn't in Ebonheart," I mused quickly, reading again. _The burrow isn't quite the same without you_. Present tense. "Caius is in Mournhold."

"In _Mournhold?_" Darius repeated, incredulous. "Why?"

"Not in the city, under the city. He's in the hall in Old Mournhold where we stayed while you were a prisoner. But if he's in Mournhold, with proof that the impostor _is_ an impostor, and he's telling us to come… _bring our Saint; it's time he had some resolution_." I laughed out loud with sudden, triumphant joy, feeling my cheeks flush as I beamed at Darius. _Saint Nerevar_. "He's saying to come back, because he's got the key he needs for us to finish this and win."


	29. Chapter 29

It took Ocato's investigators three weeks to decide our fates.

In the meantime, we had nothing to do but wait. We pored over the rest of Caius' letter but came to no additional conclusions. House arrest was better than prison, certainly, but we both felt the urgent need to return to Morrowind, and neither of us were very good at being caged.

In the absence of anything else to do, I turned to another puzzle: the book the vampire had given me. Cross-legged on the floor with the book in my lap I cracked the cover and pored over the pages, flipping close to the end where I found my mother's handwriting. There was only one recipe written in her small, curling script, a poison of forgetting.

She'd been very young when I was born. She must have been practically a child when she wrote on these pages. I looked but there was no further trace of her, no notes or further mentions. Page by page I read, going backward. Other hands had made far more of a mark. There were a great deal of entries just before my mother's written in a strong, square hand and signed "Laurent." In places it looked like people had collaborated, where the handwriting differed line by line, some things scratched out and rewritten three or four times. When the dates started getting older the entries became more varied, notes from fifty, sixty years ago written in the margins around the recipes: _the supply of scales at Miscarcand is generally reliable if you don't mind stinking of goblin; this doesn't work on a silver weapon—rework it, please?; use within two weeks of brewing or the effects start to get nasty_.

Down below that: _that's_ _the point, idiot_.

More than just recipes, there were botanical studies as well, intricate drawings of the life cycles of flora, instructions on different ways to extract ingredients from summoned daedra and mundane creatures, treatises on the best materials for an apparatus based on the type of potion being brewed. There were poisons made to look and smell like wine, poisons that could remain dormant for days in a drinker's system until activated by a spell, poisons that would kill a man but not a mer. And potions, too, here and there, that combined invisibility with speed, potions to keep from getting stiff in the cold, potions that gave sleep without dreams.

The objects nestled in between the pages intrigued me most. There were notes, scraps of paper written from one alchemist to another, arguing over technicalities. The notes were littered with names, all Breton, winding backward through time and repeated over and over through generations. Twice, I found my own name, though the pages were dated well before I was born.

At some point, I stopped thinking of it as a puzzle to be solved and simply started reading.

Some of the entries were chilling: _If you double the spiddal stick on this one the target will scream for days_. Scrawled below it: _That's perfect, thanks_.

There were ingredients, too, tucked between the pages, some I recognized and some I didn't. A flattened sprig of lavender, several snips of the same white-flowering vine that curled across the book's cover, a sliver of bloodgrass, still prickly. Beautifully preserved at the peak of bloom, one of the black roses of Morrowind. I was holding it up to my nose, breathing in the ghost of the spicy-sweet fragrance when Darius walked in.

He frowned a little. "What's this?"

I hadn't told him about the vampire, the poison, or the heirloom book. But things had changed, I thought. Matters between us were more honest, now. In the interests of that honesty, I took a deep breath, and I told him everything.

-oOo-

We had never fought before. We had disagreed, certainly. We had argued from time to time. But we had never really fought until then.

He accepted that my mother might be involved with the Dark Brotherhood without as much as a blink. He accepted that I was holding a family heirloom book of poisons without being in the least unsettled. When I told him I'd brewed a poison under duress for the Dark Brotherhood while he slept, though, he came unhinged.

It was easy sometimes to forget what Darius was, or rather, _all_ that he was. It was one thing to know that he'd bent the Houses to his will, that he'd been war-leader and ruler as well as stableboy and sweetheart, to know that he'd battled a former friend and the love of his life, gods, and lived. It was quite another thing altogether to find his formidable power and ferocity targeted at _me_.

Tempers already shortened by confinement and uncertainty, we raged at each other, shouts ringing through the little house. He accused me of being heartless and remorseless, of taking the easy way out. It was truer than not, but the knowledge didn't help, and I reminded him that he'd been passed-out drunk at the time and I hadn't seen much of a choice. "Would you rather have been dragged away and tortured and had me forced to do it anyway?" I demanded.

"_Yes!_" he shouted.

"Then you're an _idiot!" _I shouted back, and it only got worse from there.

In a burst of fury he stormed downstairs and threw the book in the fire, but it sat on the crackling firewood like a block of black granite and refused to burn, which helped his temper not at all.

I tried to be reasonable, leaning into the little niche by the front door_. "_What do you want me to do? I can't go back and change things_._"

He glowered. "I want you to be who I _thought_ you were."

"I'm the same person!"

"I wouldn't have bedded a murderer," he snarled.

I could feel myself pale. "I did it for _you_," I shouted, jerking forward. "He was threatening you, and I couldn't stand to see you hurt!"

His mouth twisted unpleasantly. "You sound like Almalexia."

I slapped him.

He'd taken far harder hits before, I know, I'd healed some of them. But it was so unexpected that all he did was stare for a second as the side of his face turned red, and the hair on the back of my neck stood up as I realized that was a really bad idea_. _I probably should have run, then, and tried to get behind a door, but I was as shocked as he was and just stood there stupidly.

I couldn't even react when he started moving, grabbing hold of my hands and shoving me back, pinning me against the wall. "Don't you ever, _ever_ hit me again," he growled, more severe than I'd ever seen him.

"Then don't say—" I started to bite back, but I was so angry I could hardly think and couldn't see for the tears blurring my vision. "That. _Ever_." He hesitated, and I don't know what I expected, then. A furious harangue, the silent treatment, to be shoved out of the house and told to get the hell back to Morrowind, maybe. Instead, he kissed me, hard.

Everything gets a little blurry after that.

A couple of things I do remember. I was never able to wear that shirt again, I know. I remember the guards from the other side of the door looking in after us at one point because apparently they could hear us outside and thought we were trying to kill each other. (We weren't.) I distinctly remember the flustered young guard telling Darius to keep things quiet or he'd have to arrest us for disturbing the peace, and Darius yelling back that we were already under arrest and would he please shut the damned _door_?

It only starts getting clear again later, blinking fibers from the scorched rug out of my eyelashes and wondering how I'd got covered in ink.

"I thought you were a _priestess_," Darius accused faintly, still gasping for air.

"Daedric priestess," I corrected hoarsely. "You know that."

He grunted. "Still not convinced you're a woman and not a harpy."

"You seemed pretty convinced a minute ago."

He began to roll over onto his back but apparently that was a bad idea. He winced and turned back to me. "Gods, woman. Nothing can ever be easy, can it?" He eyed me critically. "Do you even regret it?"

"Making the poison?" He nodded slightly. I swallowed down a _yes, you idiot_ and managed a more diplomatic, "Of course I do. But if I had it to do over again I'd do the same thing. I don't think it was right," I said quickly, because I could see he was about to argue. "It was wrong. I know it. But there wasn't any other way. If we'd been taken, we wouldn't have got to the Imperial City and you wouldn't have been able to tell Ocato about what's going on in Morrowind. I did what I had to do," I finished.

"Necessary evil." A miserable laugh tore from his throat and he closed his eyes. "No wonder you're one of Azura's; you're just alike." He grimaced. "She can _have_ you." With that he rolled to his feet and went upstairs, shutting the bedroom door between us and leaving me alone.

-oOo-

Darius spent the rest of the day upstairs; I stayed downstairs. I managed to fish the book out of the fire—it wasn't even warm, much less burned—but I couldn't bring myself to read it. I sat, and thought, and watched out the window as twilight slipped over the city. When night fell I slept fitfully by the smoldering fire, curled up on a pallet on the floor.

I woke up at dawn the next morning to Darius nudging me in the back with a foot, exasperated. "Gods, you're stubborn. Get up."

"I'm not stubborn," I protested, sitting up slowly. I was stiffer than I had been my second day of horseback riding. "I didn't want to fight any more."

He blew out a long breath and sat down heavily in the closest chair, looking ragged. "I don't want to fight, either. But I don't know what to do," he admitted. "You're the closest ally I've got. You_,_ of all people, I have to be able to trust. And all I can think of is what else you're hiding."

I rubbed at the grit in my eyes. "What do you want me to do?" When he didn't answer, I went on, "I can't go back and undo things."

He shook his head but didn't say anything, just frowned at the ashes of yesterday's fire. In the morning half-light, his ring seemed to shine softly, drawing my attention and giving me an idea. "Ask me," I told him, looking at Moon-and-Star.

Darius frowned, not understanding.

"Like you ordered the guards at the gates of Mournhold," I explained, pointing at his ring. "Order me to tell you the truth and ask me whatever you want to know. I wouldn't be able to lie, would I?"

He didn't say anything for a minute. "No," he said finally. "You wouldn't be able to lie. But there's nothing you'd be able to keep from me, you understand? Are you sure?"

The prospect wasn't appealing, but it seemed the best solution. "Yes. I trust you."

The implication of _don't hurt me_ wasn't lost on him; he grimaced and leaned forward to rest his elbows on his knees. He put out a hand and stroked it over the top of my head and I felt the sensation of a spell sinking into my skin. "**Tell me the truth**."

My mind jerked to obey, hanging readied like a puppet on strings.

"Are you a member of the Dark Brotherhood?"

"No," I answered blankly.

"Are you a member of any guilds or organizations?"

"The Temple of Azura."

"Any I don't know about?"

"No."

"Have you ever murdered anyone?"

"No."

Darius thought for a moment. "What are you most loyal to?"

"Brennan and you."

He jerked backward a little in surprise. "What else?"

I listed them off automatically, nothing but a hollow buzz in my mind. "Morrowind. Azura. The temple. Caius. The Empire. Redoran—"

He cut me off. "In that order?"

"Yes."

He took a long, shaky breath. "That's enough."

I felt vaguely sick as he released the spell and closed my eyes against a wave of nausea. "Did you find out what you wanted to know?"

He slid out of the chair, coming to his knees beside me. "Yes. You all right?"

I nodded.

"The next time…" He hesitated. "I'd rather fight. Even if you think it's hopeless, even if there doesn't seem to be any chance. Just… have some faith in me, would you?"

I nodded again.

"I don't think I slept at all. Come to bed with me?" He pushed to his feet and extended a hand, and when I took it he pulled me up.

Half an hour later I was still lying awake, listening to the rhythm of his breathing and watching daylight creep along the ceiling.

Darius raised his head a little. "You should sleep."

"I thought _you_ were asleep," I admitted.

"You're thinking too loud." He smiled, faintly; I didn't.

"You're not an idiot," I told him.

"I knew that, thanks. And you're not a murderer."

I didn't want to know in case the answer was yes, but I couldn't stop myself from asking, "Do I _really_ sound like Almalexia?"

Darius sighed, long and slow. "No," he admitted, voice low. "I was being an ass and it was the cruelest thing I could think of. It won't happen again."

-oOo-

The next few days were better, as though the argument had been a storm that cleared the air. We were having breakfast when a well-dressed gentleman came in, escorted by guards and giving a polite nod of greeting when he saw us. "Good morning. I'm from the High Chancellor's office. He'd like to see you right away. May I escort you back?"

He asked it as though he truly believed it was optional, but we followed immediately.

It seemed our moment of reckoning had arrived.


	30. Chapter 30

It was the last day of the year, I realized as we followed Ocato's messenger through the streets of the Imperial City. The districts were mostly empty, and the only sounds were the preparations of a few merchants and the chirping of birds. It seemed peaceful and very beautiful.

Something was... wrong. I could feel it hanging around the edges of my senses: a haze of red, a hot blow of ashes, the specter of change. Of Oblivion. It felt as though I could put out a hand and push through the barrier between worlds, as though it was thinning more and more with every heartbeat.

_You're imagining things_, I scolded myself_, you're afraid of the investigator's decision_.

I had enough to worry about on this plane without fretting about anything else.

We weren't taken to a grand chamber. Instead, we were led down a hallway and into an office, where the most tired-looking Altmer I had ever seen sat waiting.

"High Chancellor," Darius greeted him, bowing a little in respect, but Ocato shook his head.

"Please, just have a seat." His gold-brown eyes, a little dull with weariness, flicked over us both. "The investigation I ordered has found no proof of your guilt. Or of your innocence." He looked at me. "You would be the advisor?" He glanced at Darius. "Is she trustworthy?"

After all that had happened I wondered for a brief moment how Darius would answer, but he didn't hesitate. "Yes, sir, she is."

Ocato looked as though he was straining under the pressure of keeping the world from flying apart. "I know you're probably aware of a great number of difficulties in the Empire at the moment. I'm afraid we have a few more." He pushed a piece of paper across the desk in our direction, and Darius took it and held it up so I could see it as well, but before we could read it Ocato said flatly, "Morrowind has seceded from the Empire."

Darius' head snapped up in shock and he demanded, "What?" At Ocato's raised eyebrow, he caught himself immediately. "Forgive me, Chancellor, this is… very unexpected. When did this happen?"

"Yesterday, though we only received the news four hours ago. The details are in the report." He indicated the paper in Darius' hands.

We scanned it, briefly. The contents were disturbing. Almalexia had made a public appearance and announced that because of the Oblivion Crisis and the continuing ineptitude of the Elder Council, it was time for Morrowind to stand alone. Under _one_ leader. She claimed that Vivec and Sotha Sil had willingly sacrificed their lives and divinity in order to combine with her, the Tribune goddess and Queen of Morrowind, to become more powerful than any Divine or Daedra and well able to stand against daedric invaders and foreign governments alike. Dissenters, the report noted, were being dealt with swiftly and severely.

When we finished reading we were both shaken.

_The tribunal of one, the revolution unborn_. Caius had known this would happen.

"The report was presented in an emergency session," Ocato told us. "Immediately upon hearing the news the representative from Elsweyr announced secession as well and fled the city. Black Marsh has demanded the Legion be sent to aid them. They fear that Morrowind will go to war, and Black Marsh is poorly defended. But of course there is no aid to send." He gave a small sigh of frustration. "The representatives from the Summerset Isles and Valenwood have gone conveniently missing sometime in the last few hours."

"What about Skyrim? High Rock?" Darius asked.

"Skyrim was quick to reaffirm its alliance with Cyrodiil. High Rock has done so as well. Hammerfell… Hammerfell is waiting, I believe. They are silent on the matter thus far."

"Splitting along racial lines," I murmured, thinking aloud.

The High Chancellor nodded slightly. "Even so. As I said," he continued, "no proof of your guilt or innocence in the matter of the deaths of King Helseth and Queen Barenziah was found. However, in light of recent developments, we must consider the matter as it stands. You were accused of regicide and yet this Almalexia is the one currently occupying the throne and throwing Morrowind into rebellion. Given your history of service and the actions of the Temple, I believe it is safe to declare the charges against you false; inventions of a vindictive individual and nothing more. My steward has prepared documents declaring your innocence, and the Council has approved them. I will have it made public that the charges against both of you were fabricated."

_Innocence. Freedom_. If the mer didn't look like he had enough problems without overwrought Bretons bouncing around his office I'd have vaulted over his desk and kissed him.

"Thank you, High Chancellor," Darius said formally.

"Forgive me, sir," I began, trying to be careful. At Ocato's expectant look, I continued. "We had a third companion as well. A Blade, Caius Cosades. He was implicated in the murders as well, and had nothing to do with them."

The High Chancellor nodded with a look at his steward. "I'll see to it."

Darius shifted in his chair. "Do you know what kind of response the news is going to provoke in Cyrodiil? I know there've been a number of Dunmer immigrants from Morrowind the last few years."

"The matter is… delicate," Ocato admitted. "Cyrodiil is under siege as it is, and more Oblivion gates open every day. The road to Chorrol has been blocked by these gates for almost a week. The people are afraid, and rightly so. This is not the time to lay further burdens upon them."

It sounded like politician-speak for _we're not going to tell the people the Empire is falling apart_.

Darius realized it too. "Keeping news like this quiet will be very difficult."

"We're aware of that." Ocato regarded him mildly. "It's our hope to have the situation resolved quickly and quietly so that by the time the people become aware of the secession it's already been undone. You are the Hortator, are you not?"

Surely Ocato already knew the answer, but Darius nodded slowly anyway. "I am."

"Then you understand how fragile the situation is, and what must be done. Morrowind _must_ be brought back under control," the Chancellor emphasized. "We cannot afford to lose our borders, and we cannot allow a rogue province to threaten the security of the Empire. You have my backing and that of the Elder Council. Almalexia and her government must be stopped by any means necessary, as quickly as possible. I cannot send in the army," Ocato admitted, his expression grave. "Even if we had the soldiers to spare, a legion of foreign troops would only rally the Dunmer to war. But you already hold authority there; you can resolve the situation and restore order."

The orders were there, if politely expressed: _bring Morrowind to heel and deliver it back to the Empire._

"There is a mage at the Arcane University who will transport you to Morrowind," Ocato continued. "However, before you go there is one more situation to address." More urgent than the secession of Morrowind? Darius and I were silent, and Ocato glanced at his steward before regarding us both. "You are still an active Blade."

"Yes, sir." Darius frowned.

He glanced at me. "And you have been working with the Blades for some months, now."

"Yes, sir," I replied.

"What I am about to tell you is known only to a few, and must be kept in the _strictest_ of confidence. Am I understood?"

"Of course," Darius said immediately, as I repeated, "Yes, sir."

If doubt flickered across Ocato's face, it lasted only a moment. He had the look of a mer who'd aged a century in a handful of days as he announced, "There is another Septim heir."

Darius took a sharp breath and we shared a look. Another Septim changed _everything_. Why in the world wasn't he on the throne already?

"There are complications in getting this heir to the throne," Ocato went on as though he could read my mind. "It's connected to the Oblivion Crisis. He can't be crowned until the situation is resolved. Or rather, crowning him properly will resolve the situation. The minutiae of the subject are not precisely clear. His agent attempted some weeks ago to gain the help of the army to defend his position at Bruma. Unfortunately, I had no aid to send. Some days ago conflicting reports began to come in of a large battle east of the city, but I've not received a clear report yet, save that the heir still lives."

He settled back in his chair a little, looking wearily at Darius. "While I cannot send a legion of soldiers to his aid, I _can_ send you. Your excellence in battle has become the stuff of legend; as a Blade you are already sworn to protect him. And it would go a significant way toward healing the rift between Morrowind and the Empire if it was an authority from Morrowind who first reached out to the new Emperor."

Darius nodded. "You want me to go aid this heir in getting to the throne, and then go to Mournhold and stabilize Morrowind."

"Precisely. And as quickly as possible." Ocato rose to his feet, and Darius and I followed suit. "You will have as much assistance as I can give you, though I fear support will be largely limited to material aid and not to extra men."

"We'll make do. And we should get moving immediately. High Chancellor." Darius bowed again, slightly.

Ocato inclined his head. "Nerevarine."

And we were dismissed.

-oOo-

"We can make it to Bruma by evening if we ride hard," Darius said as we hurried out of the palace, letters declaring our innocence in our hands and a formidable task ahead of us. "But we'll have to prepare. The ground up there's a rocky mess; the horses will need shoes. I'll see to it." He unbuckled his sword belt, handing it to me along with a pouch of gold, barely breaking stride. "Do you remember how to find the Market District?"

"Yes."

"Take this to the smith? It'll need sharpened. And anything you think we'll need, go ahead and get. Basic potions, some food. You still have those daggers?"

"Back at the house," I replied, trying to keep up and ignoring the flickering feeling of uneasiness that persisted.

"You might get them. Keep them in your belt like before. We don't know what we're walking into and I'd rather be too ready than not." He shook his head, grinning suddenly. "The old _dog_."

I looked over, curious. "What?"

He looked around to see if anyone was in earshot, then put an arm around me and pulled me close. To any observer we would have looked like a pair of giddy sweethearts being foolish, but he whispered in my ear so quietly even I could barely hear, "If this heir was legitimate we'd have heard about him by now."

I tried to stifle a laugh.

"Just think, all of Tamriel might be saved because the old Emperor couldn't keep it in his pants."

"You're horrible," I whispered back, but he merely grinned.


	31. Chapter 31

_Little moments_, Caius had told me the day we met. _It's the little moments that change the world._

Darius had told it a bit differently on one of those afternoons we'd spent lying together in bed, my head on his shoulder and an open book propped on my leg as he explained a reference I'd never heard before. It was a parable of missed chances and bad timing: for want of a nail the shoe was lost, and then not just the shoe but the horse, the rider, the message. Because of the lost message, the battle was lost, then the war. Finally, the kingdom.

Little moments.

If we had walked away from Aleswell and sped on to see Ocato without stopping to close the gates. If Caius' orders to return to Cyrodiil had told him _why_. If the investigators had determined our innocence two weeks ago. If Vivec hadn't died; if we hadn't spent two days in that cabin; if Caius had come with us. If Morrowind hadn't seceded. If the stableboy hadn't been terrified to haste by Darius; if we had taken different horses; if we hadn't been in such a tearing hurry.

If any one of those things had been different, history might be different, for better or worse.

As it was, it took us only an hour and a half to get prepared and leave, and it wasn't even mid-morning by the time we were on the road, headed north at a quick canter. The sun glinted off the waters of Lake Rumare, the breeze was crisp but not too cold, and the horses were rested and ready to run. It should have been a good day for a ride, a good day to meet the future Emperor of Tamriel. But the unsettling feeling of Oblivion close at hand persisted even as we rode, the land seemed peppered with burning circles of fire in greater numbers than before, and I couldn't shake the sensation of an hourglass down to its last few grains, running out of time.

We were nearly to Aleswell when a stag burst from the hillside above and streaked across the road with a wolf in hot pursuit, racing across our path and away down the slope. It was only by inches that they missed Darius' horse, which reared in alarm and tried to bolt away. Darius was a good rider but the horse was bred and trained to pull carriages, not to carry soldiers into battle. He stumbled and shied, and by the time he was back under control he was limping, holding a forefoot off the ground. Darius dismounted and led him to the side of the road, but the problem was obvious: the horse's shoe dangled half-off.

Darius swore in frustration. "I'll have to pull all of them. That's going to lose us half an hour. Let me see one of your daggers." I handed him one and dismounted, pulling Verity to the side of the road and holding her reins as I watched Darius work. Off in the distance more Oblivion gates opened, erupting from the ground in great shudders of vile power, the hellish light they cast looking incongruous against the serene blue of the lake and sky. Darius saw them and shook his head, saying nothing but working faster.

He had three of the gelding's shoes off when we heard the riders coming. We were mostly off the road as it was, but it was a narrow pass and from the sound of the hoof beats, whoever was coming our way was in a hurry. We tried as much as possible to lead the horses further up the hill and managed to get out of the way only a few seconds before a group of riders charged down the road in a flurry of creaking saddle-leather and heavy armor. Their horses were lathered and streaked with sweat, breathing hard, and the faces under the riders' helmets were pinched and grim. One rider was unarmored, a red jewel on his chest catching the light and shining like a beacon as he flew by. They flew by us as though we weren't there and disappeared down the hill, racing on to the Imperial City.

"They're Blades," Darius said, watching them go in a numb sort of shock. "That's got to be the heir."

I looked again but they were gone. "Blades?"

Darius shook himself. "How many riders were there?"

I thought quickly. "Five total."

He looked sick. "Four Blades to protect the Emperor of all Tamriel. We've got to go back."

He bent back to his gelding's hooves as I watched down the road. They had been racing, fleeing… and we were running out of time. We were all running out of time. The low-level panic I'd been feeling all day sharpened, clarified into terrified certainty. "You have to go help them," I said, feeling dazed. "They need you."

"I can't do this any faster," he told me, not looking up. "And he can't be ridden until they're all off."

I shook myself and led my mare down to him. "They need _you_, not me. Take Verity; go. Help them."

Thirty feet up the hillside another Oblivion gate tore up from the ground, shaking the stones around us as the horses shied and whinnied in fear. Darius shook his head, dogged and strained. "She can't hold us both and I'm not leaving you here."

But I could feel how close it was, the brush of daedric magic rising from a whisper to a scream. I could feel the barriers slipping, thinning, ashes and fire and damnation just on the other side. The stench of drying blood wafted on the air, thick and hot and we didn't have any more time.

"I'm in love with you," I managed, and he did look up, then. "But it's not going to mean anything if we lose this and if you don't go we _will_ lose. Take Verity. Go." I pressed the reins into his hands.

Another gate erupted up the road between us and Aleswell, twisting the tortured fabric of the world around it. Darius hesitated. "I can't—"

"You're a Blade. Take her, and go. I'll find you." He glanced down the road again and I could see it settle over him: duty, and the weight of two lives' worth of responsibility. More than any one man should have to bear. One last despairing look at me and he was in motion, swinging into the saddle and kicking Verity into a gallop, and they shot off together down the road like a black arrow.

I followed, leading the gelding as quickly as we could go, watching in horror as gate after gate sprang up across the landscape as far as I could see, as daedra poured out, hungry and vicious. Trees splintered and crashed to the ground as the gates uprooted them, wolves yowled as clannfear fell upon them and ate them alive. The sky went red and crackled with lightning, its reflection in the lake like a vision of hell. Tears streamed from my eyes, as much from the blowing ashes coming from the gates as from the sense of impending death, of doom hanging over the world like an anvil ready to drop. I prayed, sick with fear, mumbling pleas to whatever gods would listen, to Azura, to Mara, to gods I hadn't prayed to since I was a child kneeling at chapel: Akatosh, Talos, Stendarr. To Tribunal saints I knew better than to pray to but did anyway. Have mercy, help him, _help us_.

I didn't know how much time had gone by because the sun was obscured by red, but there came the sound of a collective scream, distant but terrified. From where I stood looking out over the lake I could see Oblivion gates tearing to life inside the walls of the Imperial City. The barriers were gone; the worlds began to blur together. The ground shifted and shook in heavy rumbles and the air was a haze of fire and crackling lightning. I could feel an enormous swell of magicka, Daedric and massive and terrifyingly close, pushing up in a bloody spike and erupting like a gate onto the helpless world.

The sky split apart, and Mehrunes Dagon walked Tamriel.

Mortal eyes are not supposed to see such things. Destruction himself strode unstoppably toward the center of the Imperial City, his four arms flung wide in a mockery of a ready embrace, each one etched with runes of suffering and torment and death. Of doom, for Tamriel, for Nirn, for everything. The last shuddering breaths of all I knew gasped around me, trees withering where they stood, snow melting and running off, hell in winter. The gelding screamed and bolted, the reins jerked out of my hands before I could manage to hold on, and I watched him tear away down the road in a frenzy.

The swell of magicka was too great; it clawed at my mind and I tried to writhe away in fear but it was inescapable. Oblivion was here, now, and the world was crying out in agony as it tried to shake apart. The dormant silver thread in my mind roared to life and grew, a floodgate of magicka opening in a thick, twisting rope of molten silver and blackened blood at once too bright and dark to bear. Fury and outrage battered at my brain in voices that were not my own, branding letters of fire into the inside of my mouth, words of power I didn't understand winding around my tongue and across the back of my teeth, and I tried to cry out at the pain of it but my voice was stolen from my throat and I couldn't make a sound. The heavy rasp of daedric magicka warred with the scent of burning roses.

The shockwave of power as Dagon tore off the top of the Temple knocked me to my hands and knees, and I cried in silent horror because the world was lost and Darius was in there at Dagon's feet if he wasn't dead already. The enormous Daedra pulled back to strike, roaring victory and conquest.

And then: light, everywhere, light, in great golden beams that lit up the sky and banished the red of Oblivion, light that purged the darkness from the world and burned Dagon where he stood. A star streaked up from the ground and flew into the heavens, golden and bright, falling in reverse.

Mehrunes Dagon stood defiant but shaken, scanning the sky, and for a moment I thought the light had been an aberration, a failed attempt at fighting.

I heard it before I saw it, felt it coming back around and older than the world: the beating of wings.

Dagon heard it too and snarled, baring his teeth in fury, but there was nothing he could do. The great golden Dragon plunged from the sky like a meteor and unfolded, roaring command as His wings unfurled over the city and Divine fire poured from His jaws. Dagon reeled, swaying, and I gasped because if he fell he would crush half the city, but he caught himself and swung one of his mighty clawed hands with a sound like thunder. The Dragon had him by the neck, raking at his belly with claws of coruscating light and ancient power and Mehrunes Dagon screamed. A crackling split tore across the sky, dark as the Void, and with another breath of the Dragon's fire Dagon was flung into it with one final, furious howl as all around me the gates collapsed, the barrier between worlds was slammed back into place and the thread in my mind went dark and disappeared.

I collapsed, the afterimage of the Dragon still burned into the back of my eyes.

-oOo-

I couldn't have been out for more than a minute; I'd have been eaten. The gates were closed, yes, but there were still a terrifying number of daedra around. I could hear them shrieking and cawing to each other as I pushed to my feet, and from sheer instinct I cast an invisibility spell to hide me.

Nothing happened.

I had plenty of magicka. I had the focus and knew the words. I had cast that spell hundreds of times since I was a child, could probably have done it in my sleep. But when I opened my mouth to speak, no sound came out. I tried again, and there was nothing. I shouted, but no sound came out of my mouth.

I screamed until my throat hurt, but the only sounds around were the cries of daedra and the rustle of the wind.

I was mute.

Which meant no spells, I realized, dread pooling cold in my belly. No hiding. No healing. No lightning. Just me, a foreigner alone in a foreign land crawling with daedra, completely defenseless.

The sky had gone blue again, a deeper, more radiant hue than before, and the sun shone down on the world like a blessing. But in the center of the lake the Imperial City smoldered, half in ruins. And Darius...

I broke into a run.

The gelding hadn't made it far. I found him lying in the road, eyes glazed in death and belly ripped open, half-eaten. There was nothing I could do but pull Darius' pack out of his saddlebag and keep going.

The bridge to the Imperial City was a nightmare. There must have been pandemonium as the Oblivion gates opened inside the city walls and people had tried to flee. The bodies of men and mer and horses lay everywhere on the bridge, and for the most part I couldn't tell who had died of the daedra and who'd died from the rush of people, trampled under the feet of other citizens as they'd panicked and run from the city in an unthinking mob.

Sometimes I could. The beautiful young Altmer lying half-off the bridge with his throat missing: daedra. The dead Dunmer woman curled beside the crushed body of her infant: trampled. I glanced over the side of the bridge to see corpses floating in the shallow waters of the lake and didn't know if they'd jumped, or been pushed.

I found Verity.

I was almost halfway across when I saw her, still breathing a little, and I rushed over to her side. An unknown Imperial was still in the saddle; he must have taken her and tried to flee but he had died like everyone else, his head caved in and body crushed. When she saw me she whinnied feebly and tried to rise but couldn't. A broken handle of something jutted from her side and bloody froth was at her mouth, bubbling over her velvet nose with every pained breath. I found bottles of magicka potions tucked away in the saddlebag, but they were all useless.

I had enough potion to allow me to heal a stable of horses, and I couldn't cast a single spell.

Verity nosed at me piteously, her breathing labored. I looked at her lying on the cold bridge, more dead than alive and getting worse by the second, and I knew I had to let her go.

I couldn't help it; I sobbed. She wasn't really mine but I had been fond of her, and if it wasn't for me she could have lived another twenty years pulling carriages in perfect safety in Mournhold. I knelt beside her head and cupped a hand over her eye like Darius had done before, mouthing silent assurances to her that she had done well, and that she had been swift and beautiful and brave, and that I was sorry, over and over again. With my other hand I pulled the dagger from my belt, feeling down her neck for a pulse as I babbled soundless apologies through my tears, and when I found the thready heartbeat I prayed I had the right place, and that it would be quick, and I pushed the dagger firmly into her neck.

She was too weak to jerk away and it didn't take long before she shuddered, let out a final breath, and died.

Half-blind with tears, I pulled my pack out of her saddlebag and kept walking, climbing over the bodies of the people on the bridge as I headed toward the city gates. A guard stepped forward as I approached. "The Imperial City is under martial law, citizen. No one goes in or out."

There was no way to make him understand without words that I had to get in there to find Darius, but I tried, gesturing adamantly at the gates of the city.

He looked sympathetic. "I'm sorry, ma'am. But it's chaos. There are still cultists and daedra everywhere. You can rest in the stable if you need to, but I can't let you into the city."

I glanced over my shoulder at the stable and remembered that it was where Darius grew up, and fought a fresh wave of grief as I stumbled to the door.

Inside the stable-house were perhaps a dozen survivors, most of them wounded. "Do you have news?" an old Imperial asked, walking up to me and pressing a bloody cloth to her shoulder.

I shook my head.

She sighed, looking vexed. "They still won't tell us what happened. Might as well have a seat, child, you might be here a while."

There was a free spot over against the opposite wall, and being careful not to hit anyone with either of the packs slung over my shoulder I made my way over and sat down on the floor. At my left was a pair of Argonians, and to my right was a middle-aged Breton who gave a weak smile when our eyes met. "Hello," he said, a little faintly, moving over a little to give me more room. I tried to say hello in return before I remembered that I couldn't, and so I tried to smile but it was more of a reflexive twitch than anything else.

As I settled on the floor and leaned my back against the wall I became aware that he was still looking at me. Or rather, looking at my necklace, at the little pendant in the shape of Azura's star.

"Forgive me," he said quietly. "I don't mean to be rude, but… are you a daedra worshipper?"

The way he said it made me realize that _daedra worshipper_ was going to be a much harder thing to be and a far more dangerous thing to acknowledge in the aftermath of the invasion. I licked my lips, nervous, wondering if the people in the stable would turn on me if they knew. But the Breton didn't seem angry or suspicious, so I nodded, mouthing _Azura_.

"Azura?" he repeated in a murmur.

I nodded again.

He looked faintly intrigued. "Are you a priestess, then?"

I nodded, reaching back mentally, trying to find the little thread in my mind that tied me to Her. There was no trace of it. It was as though the link had never been there at all.

Before I could consider it too closely, one of the guards came in. "We've got… some news." Not good news, from his tone. "The Imperial City's still overrun with daedra. Citizens inside have been sealed in their homes for the time being, and we can't open up the city yet. It's going to be a few days, at least, before we can let people come and go."

There were small protests, disbelief. More tears. But the guard continued, "This location isn't safe and can't be secured, and we won't have the resources to sustain you all until we can open up the city again. We've dispatched a rider to Skingrad to ensure you'll have a place to stay there, and we'll send another to let you know as soon as the city's open."

"Skingrad?" an Orc protested. "Chorrol's closer, can't we go there?"

The guard shook his head. "Chorrol's been cut off for weeks. Even with the gates closed they wouldn't have the space or resources to keep you. Skingrad's safer."

There was no point in arguing and safety in numbers; under the command of the guards we gathered up what we could carry and they escorted us down the road.


	32. Chapter 32

It was a cheerless march to Skingrad.

No one wanted to go. We'd all been just outside the Imperial City for a reason, after all, and those who didn't have family sealed off inside the city walls had friends, or associates. No one knew who was alive, who was dead, who might be wounded or cut off or desperately in need of aid. But the guards were adamant, and just as tired and distressed as everyone else, and so we walked.

No one knew exactly what had happened. We'd all seen Dagon, all seen the Dragon and the battle. We'd seen the Oblivion gates close, leaving smoking hulks of rubble where the circles of fire had been. But how it had happened, no one knew.

I wondered if Darius had had anything to do with it, and hoped fervently that he was alive and well.

In the aftermath of the battle, I should have been relieved, at least a little. The gates had been closed, the Daedric invasion apparently stopped and Tamriel victorious. It was hard to feel anything beyond a throbbing dullness, though, a hard-edged desolation at the thought of what price that victory might have cost.

Call it what you will, stubbornness or indifference or just a lack of self-preservation, but I didn't bother to hide my pendant. The Breton had given me my first inkling that it might prove to be trouble; just then I didn't care. Cyrodiil wasn't my home, but I'd never felt my foreignness as acutely as I did then. I didn't belong there and I knew it and didn't care who else did.

When we took a break in the afternoon I sat on the side of the road amid clouds of tiny blue flowers and wove a crown of them for the little Nord girl who told me that her name was Sigrid and her tooth was loose and my necklace was pretty. I'd only barely settled it onto her hair when her mother snatched it away, worried and fearful, frowning at me.

I would have kept completely to myself after that if it hadn't been for the Breton.

He didn't say his name and I was utterly unable to ask, but he'd shouldered one of my packs early on in the walk, pointing out that he had nothing to carry and I had two people's burdens on my back. He talked a good deal of the way, about everything that came into his head: about his daughter, about a bookstore that had closed down some years back, about the quality of horses in Anvil and something called the Blackwood Company.

Honestly, I didn't listen all that well.

I ran the morning over and over in my head, trying to make sure I remembered everything in sequence and with as much clarity as I could. I tried to figure out based on speed and time where Darius was most likely to have been. I tried every now and then to speak, figuring that if it was a spell—even a powerful one—it would have to wear off eventually. My mouth didn't hurt, my throat didn't hurt, nothing felt wrong. Still, I couldn't make a sound. Not when I coughed, not when I cleared my throat, not when I sighed.

It was a very odd feeling.

The Breton asked me once if I was under a vow of silence, and seemed almost disappointed when I shook my head.

Even as my steps took me in the opposite direction, I knew I had to get back to the Imperial City. I couldn't wait a week. I couldn't wait days. I had to get back inside the city somehow. I worried at the problem as I walked. They couldn't really seal the gates, I realized. They had to change the guard eventually, and they wouldn't leave the outside of the gates unguarded altogether. So the city gates had to be open at some point, probably two, three times a day, and not for very long at a time. Though how I was supposed to sneak through a guarded gate when I couldn't cast any spells was a problem.

The answer came when I shifted my pack and the corner of the black book poked me between the shoulder blades, prodding like a reminder: alchemy.

I dug a magicka potion out of my pack and drank it down. I already had as much magicka as I could contain and so the potion didn't fill my reserves any further, but the familiar feeling of coolness tingled through me. It still worked.

Spells might have deserted me, but alchemy was still there.

The bones of a plan began to erect themselves in my mind. Get to Skingrad. Find an alchemist—my mother if I could, anyone else if I couldn't—and get invisibility potions. Get back to the Imperial City, sneak in the gates when they changed the guard, find Darius.

It was late by the time we made it to Skingrad, the moons already high in the sky. The guards shepherded us inside the gates, pointed out the inns, and told us we could have our pick before they headed for the castle, no doubt to report in. Most of the group headed for the nearest inn, including the Breton, but I tugged at my pack, trying to pull it off his shoulder.

"You don't want to go to the inn?" he asked, curious and weary. I shook my head, not bothering to explain further. _Yes_ and _no_ I could handle, and a shrug could speak volumes. Other than that, communication was simply too difficult.

He handed over my pack, and we waved a farewell before I set off down the unfamiliar streets, looking at the signs in front of the buildings: Mages Guild. Fighters Guild. A trader of some kind. And an alchemy shop.

It was good enough. I knocked on the door.

"We're closed," I heard a woman call. The voice was muffled and I couldn't tell if it was my mother or not. I knocked again, harder, and a passing guard frowned at my rudeness.

The door creaked open, and my mother stood there, looking impatient. "I said we're…" Her mouth hung open in surprise. "Alora. Mother of All, darling, what are you…" She took in the sight of me, streaked with the remnants of tears and ash and dust from the road, and softened. "Here, come in, get out of the cold."

I set my packs down as the door was closed behind me, looking around the shop.

Mother was watching me when I turned back toward her. "You look terrible."

_I need paper_, I told my mother silently, pantomiming writing. _I can't talk_.

My mother frowned, not understanding. I crossed the room to her desk, collected a sheaf of blank papers and quill and ink, and sat down at her table. _I can't talk_, I wrote hastily. _But I need your help_.

She settled down at the table across from me, perturbed. "You can't… why? And why are you in Skingrad? Last I knew you were in Mournhold."

_Long story_, I wrote. _I think it's a spell_. Gods, I was tired.

She frowned at the words. "You don't know? You didn't see it cast?"

I shook my head and she bit at her bottom lip, thinking as she rose to her feet and pulled a bottle from the stocks. "Here," she said, sitting down again. "If it's a spell, this will undo it."

She watched me crack the seal and drink, but though the magicka coursed through me dutifully I was just as silent after I'd taken it as before.

_I need to buy some invisibility potions_, I wrote. _As many as you've got or can make quickly._

Her brows rose. "Why?"

I should have tried to find another alchemist. I hadn't taken into consideration that my mother would require explanations. _I need_ _to get back into the Imperial City_, I wrote. _They've sealed it off_.

She opened her mouth to ask _why_ again and I scribbled _please just trust me_. Her eyes fell on the words and her expression went pained, reluctant.

"Is this your stray priestess?" a man asked, emerging from the shadows as he came down the stairs.

"Yes," my mother answered, terse and uncomfortable. "Alora, you remember Alain."

My mother's brother. I did, but barely. I'd only seen him a few times in my life. But looking at him, I realized with a jolt that he was why I thought I'd recognized the dark man at Cheydinhal. They didn't look all that alike—Alain was unmistakably Breton, and his eyes were blue, not black, the stubble on his chin reddish—but the uneasy sense of presence, of hidden and not-so-hidden danger, they shared that in spades.

He eyed me warily. "What does she want?"

"The Imperial City's been sealed off, she says. She wants invisibility potions so she can get back in," my mother explained, sighing a lifetime's worth of exasperation.

Alain frowned. "The City's sealed off? Why?"

This was going to be a long night, and I wasn't getting _anywhere_ at this rate. _I'm sorry. I don't have time to explain,_ I wrote. _But I've got to get back. I'm not asking for you to give them to me. I'm buying. _

My mother read it, looking troubled. "Alora…"

_She's going to say no_, I realized, feeling sick as I watched my chances get slimmer.

She winced. "I won't get involved in temple business. And I'm certainly not going to do it to help you break the law. If the City's been sealed off, you're going to be sneaking in, aren't you?"

I nodded.

A tight, regretful smile pulled at her mouth. "I'm sorry, sweetheart, I can't help you. But you're welcome to stay here as long as you need."

Alain peered over at the page I'd written on. "Is there a reason you're scribbling?"

"She can't talk," my mother explained.

It was a heavy-handed move, admittedly, but I didn't have time to sit and argue. I needed potions, and I needed to get back on the road as soon as possible, and I didn't have time for my mother to dither and say no. I pushed away from the table, kneeling by my pack and digging inside, pushing aside useless bottles of potion to find what I wanted.

"Can she usually talk?"

My mother laughed, a little despairing. "She usually can't stop herself."

_There_. I undid the leather covering and straightened, holding the book of poisons against my chest, turned so they could see the flowering vine that curled across the cover.

She paled at the sight of it, in surprise and horror and most importantly, recognition. It was an accusation; she knew it. They both did. They glanced at each other and he raised his eyebrows. "The last time I saw that book," Alain began, his eyes as cold as glaciers, "your grandfather was bleeding to death on top of it. I would be very interested to know how it came to be in your possession."

Bending again over my mother's table, I took up the quill, writing quickly. _I was recognized in Cheydinhal. A vampire gave it to me._

They both leaned over to read, and at the words Alain's expression became even darker. "Cheydinhal," he repeated, looking at my mother.

"I don't _know_ any vampires in Cheydinhal," my mother protested faintly.

_Not the vampire_, I wrote, my handwriting sloppy with fatigue. _It was an Imperial that recognized me. The vampire came later with the book. Called it a family heirloom._

My mother traced the book with her eyes, subdued. "Did you tell him that I was in Skingrad?"

_No._

"What did the Imperial say?"

_That alchemists die at the least convenient times. Wanted to know if I was your eldest daughter. Said to ask you where you learned your skills as a poisoner and to tell you no one hides forever. _

I wouldn't have thought it possible, but she paled even further.

Alain's eyes were dark and annoyed. "I told you we should have killed him."

My mother shook her head.

"He's not a bloody _child_ anymore, Cienne," he began.

"No." She cut him off, and they shared a long look. "Do you know this vampire?" she asked him softly.

He rubbed at his stubble. "I know _of_ him. You want me to take care of it?"

She pressed her lips together, looking again at the book. "I don't know yet. It might be safer." She glanced at me. "What did they want from you?"

I flicked the quill against my fingers and didn't answer. That itself was answer enough for her, apparently. She looked as though she might cry. "Oh, Alora."

"You knew this might happen," Alain told her.

I bent again to the paper. _Keep your secrets, if you want. But help me, please. It's not for the temple, it's for me._

She frowned at the paper and asked, "What's in the city that's so important?"

After a moment's hesitation, I wrote _the Nerevarine_.

Her demeanor changed completely. "Oh! You should have said so in the first place." At my look of surprise, she explained, "Brennan and I do speak, you know." She glanced over her shoulder at the shelves of bottles, considering. "I don't think I have as much invisibility potion as you'll need. But it won't take long to brew more. Come on, then, wash your hands."

It was odd, then, working side-by-side with my mother. We hadn't brewed potions together since I'd lived at home, and doing it again felt at once jarringly familiar and uncomfortably alien. Mother slivered the redwort and the petals slid into long strips, barely bruised from the pressure of the blade. "They're your secrets, too," she told me, reaching for another blossom and indicating the book. "If you wanted to know…"

I pulled some paper over, set it between us and wrote: _family heirloom?_

She traced the curling vine on the cover of the book with her eyes. "Yes. The Book, we called it. It's been in the family for… I don't know how many years. A long time. It would have been yours eventually, one way or another. Did you read it?"

I nodded. A small, sad smile flitted across her mouth. "It's very beautiful in places, isn't it? It's not all bad."

I thought a moment, then wrote: _Laurent?_

Something shadowed bloomed in her eyes. "Your grandfather. My father. He was…" She glanced at Alain, who was sharpening his shortsword at the table. "He was a brilliant alchemist. But a very difficult man."

_Was?_

An aloe leaf parted under her fingers, seeming to sigh open at the touch of her blade. "He's dead. It's rare for those in his line of work to live as long as he did."

His line of work, I thought. It was as close to an invitation to the topic as I was going to get. _Are you in the Dark Brotherhood?_ I wrote, watching her.

"No," she answered, scraping the leaf of its gel and pouring in water from a silver cup. For a moment I thought that was all she would say on the subject but she continued, "There used to be a number of families who served one way or another over the course of generations. Ours was one. But I failed my initiation." She laughed, a little grimly.

_How?_

Her fingers stilled on the knife and she tucked a lock of light brown hair behind her ear. "It was a long time ago, back when I was my father's apprentice," she told me, after the moment's hesitation. "There was talk of sending me to a different sanctuary, one that didn't have their own poisoner. But first I had to pass my initiation. I was told to go to a particular inn and poison a glass of wine. My target would find me, and all I had to do was get him to drink, watch him die, and then I would be in."

She unscrewed a jar of vampire dust, sprinkling it liberally over the aloe. "It didn't sound so hard, I thought. Understand, some initiations are grueling, and there are plenty who don't survive. At the time I was grateful mine would be so easy. So I went, and I did exactly as I was ordered, and I sat at a table and waited for the target to show up…" She sighed at the memory. "And Alain came in and sat down across from me like he'd been ordered. They'd sent me to kill my brother."

I glanced back at Alain, but his expression was impassive.

She barreled on, "I could no more have killed Alain than you could kill Brennan. And I knew that if they'd decided Alain had to die that they'd make it happen, if not by my hands then some other way. If I refused to go through with it, I was as good as dead, too. So we discussed it, and decided that the only thing to do was run. We snuck back to the sanctuary and took Irlav, and we disappeared. Lost ourselves in the Imperial City for a while, then scattered to the winds."

Mother glanced at the book's cover, wistful. "It's moonflower, you know. It's been a symbol of the family for… well, since before the book was begun. It only blooms in the dark of night and the vine will choke the life out of anything that gets in its way. But it's lovely, in its own way."

I could see how it could be lovely and terrible at the same time. Like my mother, poisoner and healer and liar and protector all at once. I took up the quill again. _Does this mean the Sintavs aren't really family?_

Mother stirred again with a long white rod. "No, they are. Cousins of ours, through my mother's side. Laurent's name—the family name—is Durand. Since Fa and I never married, I suppose that makes you Alora Durand, though I don't know that it's a name you'd want."

I shook my head and wrote _why did you come back to Cyrodiil?_

She glanced at the words. "Because it's my home. No matter how much time I spent in Morrowind, Skingrad was always home. And everyone who knew me—who knew us, before we left—was finally dead. Almost everyone, anyway. So I finally _could_ come home." She gave a faint, rueful smile.

I thought about what it would mean to wait nearly thirty years to go back to Morrowind, and wanted to shudder.

Mother looked over at Alain. "Will you take her back to the Imperial City? We'll be done here in an hour. You can get her there before dawn if you take Tracker."

He raised an eyebrow. "I'm not a babysitter."

"I didn't ask you to babysit," she retorted mildly. "I'm just asking you to get her there."

He grumbled about it, but he didn't argue any further. Once I was ready, Mother pulled a gray robe from a hook and settled it around me, drawing the hood up over my hair. "I hope you find him," she said. "I truly do. But if you don't, or if you ever have a need, you're always welcome here, you understand?"

I nodded.

Alain put a hand on my shoulder, and with one last glance at my mother I let him guide me out into the night. He moved like a shadow through the dark streets, the white puff of his breath trailing behind him the only trace of his passing. Once we were out of the city gates he gave me a considering glance. "Cienne didn't say as much, but she wouldn't want your brothers to know what you've discussed tonight. I trust you can learn to keep secrets?"

I thought about not telling Brennan, and the guilt of hiding it from him… and then I thought about telling him, and what he would feel if he knew. What Mother would feel if he knew. I nodded: yes, it was a secret I would keep.

"Good." He stopped short in front of a monstrous gray horse, a great ugly scarred thing taller than any horse I'd ever seen, and once we were both astride he kicked it into a lurching gallop. We rode like Dagon himself was at our heels, tearing down the road going east, toward the Imperial City, and Darius, and all my hopes.


	33. Chapter 33

Sometime between midnight and dawn on the road to the Imperial City, it began to snow.

Normally snow wouldn't be a problem, but staying undetected in the snow is nearly impossible. Snowflakes fall on you and stick in unpredictable ways, and so instead of staying invisible you become a snow-rimmed outline of a person moving through the air. When it showed no signs of stopping and we drew nearer to the city, Alain decided it was time for a change of plans.

He may as well have been a Blade. His new plan was the sewers. "There are things down here that will eat you alive," he cautioned as his horse ambled away. "Don't do anything stupid_._"

The sewers of the Imperial City were cramped and foul, and I stayed as close to Alain as I could. I'd left the packs (and the Book) with my mother, reasoning that it would be easier to sneak around without them, and so I had only the one flask and my one dagger.

If I found Darius alive and well, I wouldn't need much else.

And if I didn't…

I didn't want to think about it, but it kept nagging at my mind. I supposed that the dutiful thing to do, if I found that Darius had died in the fight, would be to get back to Ebonheart and find Brennan and Caius and go along with whatever plan he'd come up with. What I _wanted_ to do… well. The rising tide of violence in my mind at the thought of it surprised even me. But the impostor Almalexia was at the root of it. Without her, we wouldn't have had to go to Cyrodiil in the first place, wouldn't have been imprisoned, wouldn't have had to flee. She would have to face the consequences of her actions one way or another.

It seemed to take forever to wind our way under the city. Alain killed rats and mudcrabs and we doused the torch to creep past bands of goblins, making our way up slick stone stairs and through the dank, narrow channels.

"This'll be the Temple District," Alain whispered when we climbed a ladder into a large basement. "Can you pick locks?"

I shook my head.

He pursed his lips in momentary annoyance. "Come on, then."

I followed him out the building, both of us invisible, making our way through the alleys of the city.

It was both worse and better than I'd thought. The top of the Temple had been torn off, yes, and the streets were buckled and torn in some places. Snowflakes had drifted against the fallen bodies of clannfear and scamps. There were long, reddish tracks where I could tell bodies had fallen and been moved, and here and there were traces of their passing: a few coins that had fallen out of someone's purse, swords, a small amulet, half-hidden under an upturned brick. I saw nothing of Darius', and even as I was grateful for that I knew each of the soldiers killed here had been someone else's brother, or daughter, or lover. Victory had come at a price.

Alain made his way through the buildings of the district and I stayed as close to him as I could. We found a house where the dead were being tended, a few injured priests doing what they could for their fallen companions. We found several houses where it seemed regular families had been sealed indoors, waiting for news. We left them alone as silently as we'd come.

We finally found what looked like a makeshift infirmary and inside, to my overwhelming relief, was Darius, injured but alive. I patted Alain's arm to let him know I'd found him, and when I felt my uncle withdraw I crept over to the side of Darius' bedroll. It was midmorning, or near to it, and he appeared to be drifting in and out of sleep, but he'd had plenty of cause in the past to be wary. When he heard the scuff of my boots as I crouched at his side but didn't see a person approach, his eyes flew open and he groped automatically for a weapon that wasn't there.

"Show yourself," he growled, blanching in pain when he tried to sit up and couldn't. But unlike a spell, I couldn't release the invisibility potion whenever I wanted to, and couldn't speak to break it. I took one of his hands, carefully, noting with worry the bloody bandages that wound around his other shoulder and down under the blanket. His eyes narrowed in suspicion and he shook off my hand, feeling for where he knew someone was: my knee, my chest, up to the side of my face. I didn't move. His hand ran over my mouth, my jaw, then trailed down the front of my neck until his fingertips found the points of my pendant. His eyes went wide. "Alora…"

I nodded, though I knew he couldn't see it, and he was here and alive and the fear and grief I'd been trying to keep at bay broke in a rush. I leaned down and pressed a light kiss on his mouth, trying not to cry in relief when I felt his hand find the back of my neck, pulling me closer so he could kiss me fiercely. I dimly heard the door open, heard more people come in but I wouldn't have cared just then if every single one of the Aedra and Daedra had filed through in a disapproving line. I pulled back and he smiled at me, relief and joy in his eyes, and I knew that I was visible and we'd both made it through alive and that it was a miracle.

"Who is _this_?" I heard an old man say, wary and worn.

"His advisor," Chancellor Ocato answered with a touch of asperity, and at his voice I turned around, sitting on my heels. He frowned down at me, an eyebrow arched. "Who last anyone knew was _outside_ the city."

I couldn't have answered, but I searched for words anyway. Darius laughed a little and winced when it hurt. "She's just following your orders, Chancellor."

Another of Ocato's arch looks, this time at Darius. "My orders. Enlighten me."

"She had to know if I was dead or not, because if I was she'd have to go on to Mournhold and get rid of Almalexia herself."

Ocato let this pass without comment. "We came to determine your condition. There's much to be done, and much of it would be eased by your involvement." The Dunmer immigrants to Cyrodiil, I thought, and wondered if news of secession had been broken yet. Then I remembered that I'd only heard it yesterday morning, and surely that news would be overshadowed by the events in the Imperial City.

Time seemed to have run strangely lately.

"The healer said I'll live. Not that I'll be very happy about it for a while. But I'm not to move for a few days." At my look of concern, Darius lifted the blanket and showed me the bandages. "A daedroth got me," he explained. "One good swipe from hip to ribs. Tore through my armor like it wasn't there. I'd never seen one move so fast before."

"This crisis has proven… taxing," Ocato allowed. "The sooner we can reestablish stability the better it will be for the Empire as a whole. You know what's at stake."

Darius nodded, looking tired. "I do."

Ocato inclined his head. "Then I wish you a swift recovery. I'll expect your plans on how to stabilize Morrowind as soon as you're well enough." He turned and left, one of the attendants scurrying to open the door for him.

Darius let out a short, quiet laugh, falling back to his pillow. "Which is a polite way of saying 'get better so you can get back there, dethrone the bitch and get Morrowind muzzled and tamed and handed over to the Elder Council'. Joy."

"Forgive me," the old man interjected. "You're the… advisor?" I could hardly blame him for the skepticism in his voice given the circumstances, but still, it rankled a little. "How did you get into the city?"

_I'm sorry_, I mouthed, shaking my head. _I can't talk_.

"She's speechless," Darius joked. "Ocato has that effect on people."

"_High Chancellor_ Ocato," the old man rebuked mildly before turning back to me. "Can you speak?"

I shook my head.

"Did you come in through the sewers?"

I nodded, and he pressed his lips together in frustration. "I told him to seal off the sewers. Forgive me." He left the same way Ocato had gone, though no attendants rushed open the door for him.

"You can't talk?" Darius looked worried. I shook my head, pointing to his bandaged shoulder inquisitively. "That? That's not daedroth. There was debris, when the temple was torn apart. Stone, mostly. A big chunk of it got me. Better on the sword-arm than on the head, I guess, though it was a near thing." He frowned. "Why can't you talk?"

I shrugged.

He looked disappointed. "You didn't just scream yourself hoarse, did you?"

I thought about the sensation of my voice being stolen and ran the tip of my tongue across the back of my teeth and the inside of my cheeks where the fiery words had been branded. It had felt so intense at the time, but now I could scarcely feel them. I shook my head. Whatever it was, it didn't feel natural.

I could almost see his thoughts fall into place. "So this isn't… you haven't just lost your voice. It's more serious than that, isn't it? Can you cast spells?"

I shook my head again.

Darius frowned. "So I can't fight, and you can't fight." He sighed, leaning his head back. "We've been pretty well disarmed, haven't we?"

I bit my lip, trying to think of how we might overthrow Almalexia wounded and silenced, and coming up with nothing.

"Have you slept?" I shook my head, and he tried to muster a smile. "Here, come on. There's room." He inched over gingerly on the bedroll, holding the blanket out over me. "I was told everyone outside the city was being sent to Skingrad," Darius said, tucking his good arm around me. "I thought you'd go. Try to find your mother."

I nodded. "You did?" I nodded again. "And you're already back? No, don't nod, that one's obvious." I could feel him smile. "I told you you were stubborn."

I just listened to his pulse beat steadily under my ear.

"So…" He blew out a long breath. "I'm injured. You're spell-less. Watch, Caius will be all out of smug and then we'll be doomed."

-oOo-

It is a universal truth that men of action make terrible patients. Darius was no exception. In the days that followed he was frustrated almost to the limit of what he could bear by the healers and their attendants chiding him to stillness. They chided me, too, for smiling instead of trying to prevent him from moving, but there wasn't much I could have done. In any case I thought it was better for him to push at his new limits little by little than wither in frustration.

The other Blades helped, but still, it was two days and a great many potions before he could even sit up on his own without pain.

Fortunately there was Baurus, a good-natured Redguard nursing a mangled leg who'd taken a liking to Darius and passed afternoons at his bedside, playing cards and dice and talking. Between the two of them, they told me about Martin, the Oblivion gates inside the city walls, the dragon turned to stone, the fight. I couldn't ask, and they were halfway through the story before Darius realized I didn't know that this Martin was the heir we'd seen. That he was dead, or ascended, or something. No one knew for certain. Either way the outcome was the same: the Septim line was truly gone.

They were quiet for a while after that.

Baurus talked about the trials that had come before the final battle with an easy manner that couldn't hide how hard it all must have been. He talked about the Hero of Kvatch, who was now also the Champion of Cyrodiil, and nodded over to a young Blade on the other side of the infirmary who came over at the mention of the title and sat cross-legged at Baurus' side.

I thought, for a moment, that the Hero of Kvatch was one of the prettiest young men I had ever seen before I remembered that she was a woman. Her black hair was cut shorter than Darius', spiky and unruly, and she walked like a man. The hands that rested on her sword-belt were blunt and heavily callused, the nails bitten short. Maybe she would have appeared more girlish if she'd smiled, but she never did, only watched everything and everyone with sharp green eyes.

They narrowed at me when she sat down. "Who are _you_?"

Darius answered automatically, rolling off the introduction he'd repeated a dozen times the last few days. "My advisor from the temple of Azura. This is Alora. Alora, this is Calla."

I nodded a greeting.

"You don't speak for yourself?" There was derision in the words and in the look she gave me.

Darius' eyes flicked up from his cards. "She's silenced, as best we can tell." Darius had snagged a passing healer that second day and she'd looked inside my mouth and throat, shaking her head apologetically. Physically, she said, I was fine.

Calla looked at me critically. "You from Morrowind, too? You don't look like you belong here."

The words were vaguely antagonistic but the tone was hard to read. I tried to determine if she was merely brusque or actually hostile and she returned my gaze for a moment before taking a sudden interest in the seam of her pants.

"She's from Morrowind. Ald'ruhn, up in the Ashlands." Darius said after a moment, faintly irritated. "You want me to deal you in?"

"Nah."

Baurus glanced over at me. "I heard Ald'ruhn was destroyed by daedra. Is that true?"

I nodded at the same time Darius said, "An Oblivion gate opened up inside the Fighter's Guild. The whole city's gone."

For some reason that snapped Calla's attention around and she watched me again.

Baurus looked grave. "You've got my condolences."

I was getting sick to death of nodding. I'd never realized how much I liked talking until I was unable.

The old man—who Darius had told me was Jauffre, the Grandmaster of the Blades—entered the infirmary. "They're opening up the Imperial City."

Darius perked up. "Now?"

Jauffre nodded once. "Right now. There's no one waiting to get in at the moment, but they expect a crowd once word spreads."

"What about Mythic Dawn agents that might have gone to ground?" Baurus frowned, adjusting his leg. Most of the muscle had been torn off the bone, and from what I understood it was being difficult about healing.

"According to Ocato there's less trouble in letting any stragglers go than there will be if the Imperial City is kept sealed much longer." Jauffre shook his head, not liking it.

"_High Chancellor_ Ocato," Darius rebuked softly, keeping his eyes on his cards. Still, I saw the corner of his mouth twitch a little.

Jauffre's eyebrow shot up. "Indeed. How is your recovery progressing?"

Darius grimaced. "I'm still here, aren't I?"

"The Blades are being moved into the barracks in the palace. You're coming as well. I believe the High Chancellor wants to keep you close at hand."

Darius' smile was more of a grimace. "Wonderful."

Jauffre regarded him mildly. "He has few enough representatives from the provinces he can trust. Surely you can't begrudge him the modicum of stability he gains from your cooperation."

Darius' expression went sour, but handed his cards back over to Baurus. "Thanks for the game. When do we leave?"

We were to leave right then, as it turned out, and despite Darius' protests he was pushed in a wheeled chair instead of being allowed to make the attempt at walking. The wooden wheels provided no cushion and the streets were in poor shape. He was jostled badly, and by the time the group made it to the palace his teeth were clenched and he was snappish with pain.

"The High Chancellor wants to see you," an attendant announced as soon as we arrived. "And you as well, Grandmaster."

"Of course he does," Darius gritted out.

Jauffre turned to me. "Have you been to the Temple of the One?"

I shook my head warily.

"Calla, would you escort her there, please?"

Her head whipped up, irritated and hurt. "You're _serious?_"

Jauffre nodded once, and she stared at him for a moment before she grimaced. "Fine. Grandmaster. Come on, let's go."

I shot a curious glance over my shoulder as I followed her out, but I didn't know what to make of Jauffre's resigned expression. As soon as we were outside, Calla blew out a heavy breath, walking in great angry strides I had to jog to keep up with. Outside the Temple, she hesitated, looking pained. "I really don't want to go in there. Can I…?" She grimaced. "Can I borrow your hood? I'd rather not be recognized."

I handed it over, watching in curiosity as she pulled the hood down low over her eyes. "Thanks."

The inside of the Temple was crowded, which was to be expected. The appearance of a Divine to defeat a Daedra inside the city walls was an event out of legend. A wave of religious fervor—especially in the city—was nearly inevitable. The people in the Temple stood shoulder-to-shoulder, gazing up at the dragon statue, many of them praying.

Calla made a lukewarm gesture in its general direction. "Well, there it is. I can't imagine he'd want to send you here for anything else."

I looked at it for a while, curious, but whatever divinity had once animated the great dragon was gone. It was a statue, cold and stone, and nothing more. The crowd pressed closer and we were bumped together, and Calla frowned at the offender, who barely noticed. "They're packed in like rats today. Not a good time to be a daedra worshipper in the Imperial City, is it?"

My breath froze in my chest. People glared our direction and I fought back a wave of irritation at Calla as I kept an eye on the crowd, trying to gauge their mood. If she'd said it carelessly it was foolish; if she'd said it maliciously she could well be putting my life in danger. I turned and slipped through the crush of people, scowling as I left the temple.

"Hey! The palace is the _other_ way," she called from behind me once she'd followed me out.

I didn't stop. It was nearing sunset, the city gates were open, and I needed air. I barreled on, hoping she'd go back to the palace and leave me alone. She didn't. "_Hey!_ What's wrong with you?" She caught up with me, irritated and walking fast. "Where are you going?"

I glared in equal annoyance. Did she suddenly expect me to be able to speak because she'd asked me a question?

I walked through the district and out the open city gates with Calla at my heels, trying to ignore her as I settled down onto the frozen ground of the isle a little distance away, facing west.

She stood above me, aggravation rolling off of her in waves. "Are you _mad?_"

I shook my head, watching the twilight begin to creep in. Calla sat down a few feet away in a jangle of buckles and weapons, pulling impatiently at a clump of brown grass. "You know it's going to be dark soon."

_Yes,_ I thought acidly, _I've been doing this a while, I'm familiar with how day and night work._ I closed my eyes, listening to the waves on the lake. It was too cold and there wasn't the tang of salt and sea breeze, but it was almost like the temple. The habit of long practice stirred in my mind, sleepy but strong, and though I couldn't speak them aloud I ran a few ritual prayers through my mind. I didn't know if they would be heard, much less answered. I didn't care. The act itself was enough.

The sun ducked low over the horizon, spilling oranges and golds along the western sky, and I watched, trying to let go little by little the tension and fear I'd been harboring for… oh. Months, now.

"You were from Ald'ruhn?"

I glanced at Calla, exasperated. But there was no way to communicate _can't you just wait two more minutes? _I nodded.

Her mouth twisted. "I was from Kvatch."

I frowned, not comprehending. It took a moment for the memory to surface, of Brennan saying that Kvatch had been under siege by the daedra and had been utterly destroyed.

Ah. My hometown destroyed by daedra; her hometown destroyed by daedra. I understood. She was quiet after that. We watched the sunset, and when it was done, we rose and dusted the snow off our pants, heading back for the city together.


	34. Chapter 34

The mood of the city was divided, to say the least.

The regular citizenry—those not buzzing like bees at the palace—seemed satisfied. There had been losses, certainly, but overall the mood seemed positive. The daedra were gone. Mehrunes Dagon had been roundly, and they thought permanently, defeated. And though Martin was dead, well, none of them had known of Martin before his death, so no one really mourned him now. They'd had no emperor since the assassination, and they still had no emperor. Nothing had changed except the defeat of the daedra.

For the Blades, everything had changed.

Mehrunes Dagon had still been defeated, of course, but the first time a Blade brought up the idea that the barriers between Oblivion and Tamriel were permanent and unbreachable a young healer's attendant had protested that it wasn't true. His simple spell—calling a daedric dagger to hand—had been proof enough.

Dagon had been banished, certainly. But not forever. It was too much a part of his nature; he would try, again and again. Next time there would be no more Martins to hold him at bay, no more Septims left to sacrifice, which meant that this latest invasion attempt wasn't even the final struggle. It was merely one more battle in a long, long war.

Once that sunk in, the mood of the Blades went from somber to bleak. I could hear Calla shouting at Jauffre from behind closed doors down the hall, and it was the only time I ever heard him raise his voice in return. I couldn't make out what they said but the tone sounded bitter, so bitter.

It made a little sense when Darius told me later that Calla and Martin had been involved, after a fashion. Like everything else in Cyrodiil, it was complicated.

Even Darius, who wasn't by any standard a typical Blade, seemed shadowed. Once he began recovering in earnest and was moved into guest quarters I noticed how troubled his sleep had become, how subdued he seemed. When he wasn't around politicians or the other Blades he was quiet, his thoughts turned inward.

I didn't ask, but I watched and worried.

One night he woke with a jerk, shaking and drenched in sweat as he pushed up to sit at the side of the bed. Moonlight shone off his hair and newly-scarred shoulder as his chest heaved for air. I sat up beside him, alarmed, and he shuddered and looked over at me. When he spoke, it was so quiet I almost couldn't hear. "Do you remember those dremora? The trap?"

I shifted closer, dangling my legs off the side of the bed and nodding.

He blew out a ragged breath. "You remember what they said about you being a servant of dawn, and having an ancient weapon?"

I nodded again. I hadn't known what to make of it, but I did remember.

"It was me," he said, staring at his hands. "The weapon. I heard… when I was fighting along with the Blades. Dagon was already there, and I heard a voice, a… a whisper, in my head. It called me Nerevar, Godkiller." He shuddered again, like he stood naked in a blizzard. "There was a moment, just a couple of seconds, when we got into the Temple. There were only a few of us there, and Martin, and he stood there like he didn't know what to do and it…" He grimaced. "I got this overwhelming urge to kill him. And I know it didn't come from me, but it was like something was pressing down on me, pushing me out of the way to use my mind and body. Telling me I was the killer of gods, and that Martin was… that I should kill him. And I wanted to. But not..." He gave a short, bitter laugh. "I wanted to and I didn't want to, and I hated it. It doesn't make any sense. Is that how it was with the sigil stones?"

I nodded, slightly. I didn't know how Darius had been so affected, but then, with the barrier between worlds almost gone, who knew what could have happened? Devoted to one or not, he had been Daedra-touched. It must have been enough.

"I'd have done it," he admitted, voice rough. "There wasn't anyone who could have stopped me. And Martin, he knew. But it happened so fast after that, and I didn't get the chance."

A lock of hair clung to his damp forehead and when I reached up to smooth it back he caught my hand and held it, and stared heartsick at our intertwined fingers.

-oOo-

Without a voice, I wasn't much of an advisor. I gave up trying to write what I'd have otherwise said after a few days. It took too long to unstopper the inkwell, fish out a quill and paper from my pocket, and find a flat surface to write on. I settled for silence, and those around me learned to ask only yes or no questions. For the most part, no one spoke to me at all.

Darius could read my expressions a little better than most, and so for him my reactions were a little more varied. We could carry on a conversation, sort of, cobbling together sentences from pantomime and written scraps of things on paper and an array of facial expressions. But for the most part we didn't need to speak. We sat in on the same meetings and knew the same information. We both knew that our return to Morrowind was nearing as his body healed, but neither of us had a plan, and so we didn't discuss it.

Even without a voice, though, I was still a priestess. Dawn had become a word tainted by unpleasant connotations for the citizens of the Imperial City, and the wounds there were too raw to push against. But every day at dusk I slipped out of the palace and through the city streets, heading for the unwalled part of the isle where I could watch the sunset in peace and quiet.

I didn't hear Azura. I didn't really try to get through, but it was a comfort to cling to what I could. With everything else so foreign around me, sunset was ever the same.

Calla started coming along.

Uninvited and entirely unwelcome at first, she began following me out of the city, sitting down when I did and watching west as the sun set over the world. After that first day she'd learned for the most part to keep her peace, but even so she was a loud person, even when she wasn't saying anything. She shifted restlessly and her weapons clinked in their sheaths, and I could almost hear the frustration that coiled in her as she sighed.

Her identity had become wrapped up almost entirely in Martin and in the quest to get him to the throne, and now that he was gone and the world was moving on without a backward glance, she seemed stuck. She didn't seem to know how to be the Champion of Cyrodiil, she didn't like politicians or politics but it still hurt to be excluded from them so absolutely, and she was still young—very young—but had become obsolete before her time.

No one ever said it, least of all her, but I think she'd expected to die in the service of her cause instead of letting the one she was supposed to protect sacrifice himself.

I don't know what made her start watching the sunset with me. She did seem to be calmer afterwards, the knot of unhappiness in her easing bit by bit. I know she felt caged inside the palace walls. Other than that, I didn't know her reasons—didn't know if even she knew her reasons—and I couldn't ask.

The sixth time she sat with me to watch the sunset she seemed particularly agitated, pulling at the grass, but when I glanced over at her she didn't meet my eyes. With an inward shrug I turned back to the setting sun, watching the play of color along the horizon as twilight deepened around us.

Calla shifted again, restless. "You want to know a secret?" It was odd enough to snap me out of my reverie, and when she had my full attention she grimaced. "You're a priest, right? Priests like secrets." The twisted smile on her lips didn't reach her eyes.

I had the feeling I was missing something, but didn't know what.

"I'm dying," she told me with a bitter smile. "Because I read a godsdamned book. Because I didn't get the amulet, and I thought if I read the book I could figure out how to get it back, and I didn't know it was evil until he told me. And by then it was too late." She looked up at the emerging stars, the ghost of a snarl on her lips. "Seems a hell of a way to go. He didn't tell me for two months. Not even Jauffre knows." Another smile that was more of a grimace. "I don't even know when, or how. If he knew, he didn't tell me. Probably _did_ know, the bastard." She made a noise of disgust. "Priestess, you ever want to bring someone back from the dead so you can kill them yourself?"

I smiled a little, despite myself, even though I didn't know if she was joking or not.

"I am fetching _sick_ of politicians and false sympathy and stupid questions about how I feel. I don't feel anything." It might have been convincing if her voice hadn't broken when she said it. She tossed aside the withered blades of grass. "I'm just… I'm _done_. You wanna go get a drink? Because I really need one, and I think you might be the only person in the entire godsdamned city who's not going to tell me to calm down and shut up and have faith in the Nine."

I hesitated, thinking. Before much longer I would be in Mournhold with Caius and Darius trying to overthrow Almalexia, and I didn't know how in the hells we'd manage to pull _that_ off. Or if we'd even survive the attempt. I shrugged assent, and we got to our feet, heading back into the city in search of a drink.

Or two.

Or ten.

-oOo-

I'd thought we'd go out to a tavern, but Calla headed back to the palace and down a hallway I'd never seen. "There's _tons_ of booze tucked away around here," she confided. "Guess running the whole damn world will drive you to drink?"

I shrugged, following her gamely.

"_Here_ we are." She settled down at the side of what looked like a solid bench and pried off the top, peeking inside. "There's more than this, too. I've found bottles inside vases, hidden in chairs. I don't know who's doing it but they're going to have to restock after tonight." She pulled out bottle after bottle of wine, setting them aside and digging further into the bench. "What do you drink? I think you'll have your pick."

I shrugged again.

"Oh, right. That's got to be a pain in the ass, not being able to talk." She held up a curvy violet bottle. "A hundred gold this is Ocato's. Doesn't it look like something a bunch of prissy High Elves would drink? In tiny little glasses, right? And they'd all bitch about it going to their thighs the second they're done."

I smiled, despite myself.

Calla pulled the stopper and smelled the contents with an odd grimace. "Ye gods. It smells like flowers." She took another whiff and held it out. "Dare you to drink it."

I took it gingerly as though it might bite, and smelled it. It did smell like flowers, but nothing I could identify. Which meant I didn't know what it was, or what was in it. My mother would have been horrified, and in spite of that—or because of it—I took a swallow. It tasted like flowers, too, I thought, and… clouds?

That couldn't be right.

Calla's expression had gone odd. "You're grinning like an idiot. Let me see that." She swiped the bottle from my hand and took a swig, and a few seconds later a smile split her face. "Ye gods," she said again. "That's… I don't think that's liquor. I don't know what it is… but it's… it's…" She took another swig. "It's _fantastic_."

-oOo-

Most of an hour and most of the bottle later, the both of us were bonelessly relaxed. It wasn't quite like being drunk. More like being very fuzzy, a little giddy, and worried about absolutely nothing in the whole wide world.

Calla leaned back against a low chair, gesturing expansively as she told me about growing up in Kvatch, about dragging Martin to some priory by his ear and cursing him every step of the way, about some prank she'd tried to play on Jauffre involving a white rat and a watermelon but she kept getting sidetracked by the flickering light of the candles and so I never did get the whole story.

I kept forgetting I couldn't talk, and so I babbled responses silently, and when I did remember I managed to find a quill and ink but no paper so I scribbled responses onto the skin of my arms.

She read them all, leaning close as we passed the bottle back and forth.

That's how Darius, Baurus and Jauffre found us some time later: sprawled out on the floor with our shoes kicked off, ink splatters everywhere and surrounded by bottles as I was trying to explain to Calla the series of hand gestures necessary to tell a politician 'may Sheogorath bugger your ancestors for a thousand years.'

"Sweet merciful gods," Jauffre muttered, impatient. "Where have you _been?_"

"Right here!" Calla beamed. She was really quite beautiful, I thought. Even if she did look like a boy. "We stayed in the palace, just like you wanted!"

"Just like…" Jauffre trailed off, looking a little faint. He took in the bottles strewn everywhere. "Calla, have you been drinking?"

She grinned at him. "Yes!"

Darius smirked at me. "I didn't know priestesses were allowed to get stupid drunk in palaces, Alora."

Calla laughed. "Maybe she's not a very good priestess. S'okay, though, Martin wasn't a very good priestess either." She swayed a little when she looked at me, still holding onto the bottle. "Did I ever tell you that Martin was a daedra worshipper? He was, really. Not Azura, though."

Jauffre looked a little panicked. "Calla, this is a highly inappropriate—"

"_Sanguine_," she finished, her eyes bright with mischief. "He was a _Sanguine worshipper_." She cackled.

I felt around for my quill but couldn't find it, and finally Calla plucked it from my hair. I dipped the tip in what was left of the ink and scrawled across my arm _lucky you_. As soon as she saw it she threw her head back and howled with laughter.

Jauffre looked like he might combust. "Baurus. Handle it."

When he spun on his heel and left, Baurus stopped trying not to laugh, and he led Calla off into the hallway as Darius tried to do the same for me. I was less steady than Calla had been, though, and the space behind my eyes felt fuzzy. Walking had suddenly become a task requiring focus, and concentration, and other important things I didn't have just then.

Like balance.

I stumbled and Darius caught me, amused as he steered us down the hall. "Name of Azura, what am I going to do with you?"

I grinned. Clearly, he was beginning to appreciate me, because I was brilliant, and wise, and incredibly useful as an advisor.

He laughed. "We're going back to Morrowind day after tomorrow. Which is probably just as well. From the looks of things you'll be spending all day tomorrow sleeping this off."

I just grinned wider, almost floating down the hallway. _Morrowind_. Which meant Caius, and beautiful, beautiful Mournhold, and home.

-oOo-

I was not grinning the next day.

It might not have been alcohol, but in the aftermath of it I still felt like my stomach was trying to turn itself inside out and crawl up out of my throat and the only way to prevent my insides from escaping was to lie perfectly still and try not to breathe too deeply. It was well after noon by the time I managed to scrape myself out of bed, much to Darius' amusement and my mortification.

I had barely managed to pull on a clean dress and had only begun to scrub at the ink that was still staining my forearms when a tap came on the door and the guard announced I had a visitor.

Darius and I exchanged a glance. "Here?"

"Just down the hall."

Darius looked curious. "We'll see them." I shot him a glare—I was covered in ink and had the feeling my hair looked like a cliff racer was nesting in it—but he shrugged. "It might be someone Caius sent."

It wasn't. A man walked in, holding two packs that I immediately recognized as the ones I'd left with my mother. I thought for a moment he was Imperial before I took in his stature and the shape of his eyes. The differences were subtle, but he was smaller. Lighter. A Breton that could have passed for Cyrodiilic, with dark, wavy hair and eyes the color of fallen leaves.

He smiled and I saw Brennan in his face, in his eyes. "You're Alora?"

I nodded, helplessly.

"Good. I'm…" He tried to smile, but the expression seemed pained. "I'm Hastrel Ottus. I believe I'm your father."


	35. Chapter 35

I would like to think I didn't gape like a fish, but I'm sure I did.

Darius rose to his feet, casting a glance over at me and looking uncertain. "I'll be just outside."

Hastrel nodded at him absently.

Darius closed the door behind him and left the two of us alone. For a moment neither of us moved, but after that he seemed to shake himself, setting the packs down nearby. "I'm… I'm sorry. I know this must be a shock. And I'm sure I could have done this with a bit more tact, or grace, but… well. I've been on horseback most of the last two days and I don't know that I'm thinking all that clearly at the moment."

I knew how he felt. He looked at me searchingly. "You look so like your mother."

Which was funny, because I was thinking at that very moment how much Brennan looked like him. I opened my mouth to say something, but of course nothing came out.

"Your mother said you weren't able to talk," Hastrel said, leaning down and pulling down a thick sheaf of papers from one of the packs. "She didn't say why, but told me to bring these. Would you…" He looked uncertain again. "Do you want me to go? I shouldn't have shown up without any word. I'm afraid I've handled this badly."

He was more nervous than I was, I realized. I recovered and shook my head, settling down at the table and indicating that he should have a seat. He sat down across from me and pushed the papers over. I took up a quill and wrote _You've spoken to my mother?_

"Yes." He shifted in his chair, fidgeting. "I got a letter from her two days ago. It was… you have to understand, I never knew about you. Or your brother. And I never expected to hear from your mother again. If I'd known…"

I nodded. If he'd known, everything would have been different. Little moments, I suppose.

"Your mother said… is it true?" He looked a little ill. "Are you really a daedra worshipper?"

The censure in his voice surprised me a bit, though it really shouldn't have, given his wife's opinion on the matter. _Yes_, I wrote. _I've been a priestess of Azura for more than ten years._

"I see," he said, frowning. "But you… you didn't have anything to do with the daedra attacking Cyrodiil, did you?"

I felt a chill. Surely he couldn't have thought that _Azura_… But he was ignorant, I realized, and had little idea of daedra except that they had attacked his city, and he didn't know enough not to cast blame on them all.

I wrote: _No. All Tamriel was attacked, not just Cyrodiil. My home city of Ald'ruhn was destroyed by the daedra._

He frowned at my words. "Oh."

_If it makes you feel any better, Brennan is a priest of Stendarr._

Hastrel had the grace to look abashed. "That must have come out poorly." He shifted, discomfited. "It's just that it's not done, around here. And I know you're… from Morrowind, and things are different there. Forgive me."

I considered a moment, and wrote: _How did you find out?_

He grimaced. "Cienne sent me a letter. It's been… unreal. I'd just been repairing my home when I got it, saying I've got two more children I never knew about, only they're not children, they're adults and…" He sighed. "And I got on a horse in a daze and rode to Skingrad and shouted at your mother half the night. I loved her, you know. When we were young. I loved her like _mad_ and I never understood why she left." For a moment he sounded unaccountably young. "I don't quite know what to do, now," he admitted. "I've been married for twenty-six years, I've got a life with my wife and daughter. I've no idea how I'm going to explain _you_."

So don't, I thought, but wrote: _Are you going to?_

He leaned over the table to read. "Do you want me to?"

I took a deep breath, watching him. _I don't need anything, if that's what you mean. If explaining me would be difficult, it's not necessary. At least for me. I can't speak for Brennan._

"No." He looked uncomfortable. "You should have my name, at least, if you want it. I _will_ acknowledge you. Ida would be happy about it, I think, given enough time. She would be your little sister. Is your little sister, I suppose. But Alessia…" He grimaced, despairing.

I tapped the quill against my fingers for a moment, thinking, before I wrote: _If you decide you want to tell your wife, go ahead. But there's no hurry. I won't speak of it, and you can take your time to decide how you want to approach the subject._

He nodded, reading. "That… that sounds reasonable. I'm sorry, I really didn't think this through. I haven't slept more than a couple of hours since I got the letter, and I left the house in a rush with no explanation… I should go home. I know you're supposed to head back to Morrowind soon, but if you're ever in Cyrodiil, may I see you again?"

I nodded, pushing out of my chair and getting to my feet.

He pulled a pair of letters out of his pocket. "Your mother sent a letter for you. And I wrote one for your brother. Would you see that it gets to him?"

I took them, nodding.

"Thank you." He gave me another searching look. "I wish she would have _told _me she was expecting. I would have…"

Married her, I thought. You'd have married her, and I'd have been your daughter and never known Fa, never even been to Morrowind.

He pushed a hand through his hair in a flustered gesture that reminded me of Brennan. "Could I write to you?"

I nodded again and tried to give an encouraging smile and he smiled back, faintly.

"Good." He looked as though he might try to hug me, but didn't. "Until next time then, Alora," he said, and left. When he shut the door behind him I sank into a nearby chair, feeling a bit dazed and cracking the seal on my mother's letter. It read:

_Alora,_

_Certainly this is not the way I'd ever have hoped for you to discover the truth, but done is done. When Jena wrote me and told me you'd been asking questions, I knew it was time. And particularly in light of all that's happened, I thought you might need all the allies you could get. Once he recovers from his surprise, I think Hastrel will prove a good man to have on your side._

_I burdened you with darkness, the least I could do is give you a bit of light._

_If you're reading this, you've met your father. And if you've met him, I'm sure you've noticed he's a good man. He is kind, and very much Cyrodiilic but sweet, and there was a time I cared for him deeply. The reasons I left for Morrowind have nothing to do with him. You already know some of the story and can figure out the rest. Suffice to say that no one hides forever, even in a city as large as the Imperial City, and that when danger threatened it was more prudent to flee than to remain._

_Hastrel would have wanted to stay. And he would not—does not, I believe—have what it would have taken to protect you, or me, or himself. Safer to vanish and leave him innocent than to entangle him in events beyond his understanding or control._

_If you and Hastrel decide to pursue a relationship, I've every faith he will rise to the occasion and be a kind and loving father. Fa adored you, always, and he wouldn't have wanted you to keep your distance from Hastrel for his sake._

_I'll write more later, but Hastrel is still wearing out the rug in my sitting room and getting impatient to ride back to the city and no doubt burst in on you unannounced. I hope your meeting goes well. Write to me, if you like, and I'll answer whatever questions I can._

_All my love,_

_Mother_

I folded the letter and tucked it into my pack as Darius came back in. "You all right?"

I shrugged, smiling faintly.

He gave me a considering look. "You want to go for a walk? Get some air?" I nodded, and it only took me a few minutes to rake a comb through my hair and pull on a robe that covered my ink-splotched arms. Once we were out in the bracingly cold winter air, I felt a little better. Less queasy, certainly, and a little less conflicted.

Darius glance down at me. "Did it go all right?"

I nodded.

"You still feeling sick?"

I shook my head, pulling my robe closer around me to keep out the chill.

He smiled a little ruefully. "I wish your voice would come back. I miss talking with you."

_I miss talking_, I said, returning his smile.

"I can't wait until we're back in Morrowind," he said, taking my hand as we made our way down the street. "Never thought I'd hear myself saying _that_."

I smiled.

"Better to be back doing something than stuck here with scheming politicians and a thousand different agendas. I'd rather know who my enemies are than have to wonder." I nodded agreement.

Darius glanced down at me, still looking rueful. "You haven't managed to come up with any brilliant plans for overthrowing Almalexia and what's left of the Tribunal Temple, have you? Because I haven't."

I shook my head.

He slumped a little. "Doesn't hurt to ask, I guess. We'll just have to hope Caius has come up with something. Proof is all well and good, but it's still got to be circulated. And evidence can always be destroyed. I wish I knew how this was going to work."

So did I.

-oOo-

The evening before we left for Morrowind, Calla and Darius sparred.

Darius sparring—at all—after the injuries he'd sustained seemed near-miraculous, but he insisted that he was healed as best as he would be and wanted at least one good bout to test himself against before he went back to Morrowind. Who better to spar with than the Champion of Cyrodiil?

I sat on a nearby bench in the courtyard, watching them circle each other, measuring. Darius was newly armored and had his ebony longsword at the ready, shifting his weight and looking deceptively casual.

In contrast, Calla circled Darius like a predator. I would have expected her to wear the armor of the Blades, but for the match she'd worn a chainmail cuirass, wolf-headed and battered-looking, the wolf-headed shield she carried hardly in better condition.

She struck, snaking forward in a swift lunge, trying to drive the point of her sword through Darius' defenses, but he batted away the attack with little difficulty and resumed pacing, making no move to counterattack.

Calla frowned. I thought for a moment I saw the ghost of a smirk on Darius' lips, but it quickly passed.

Another minute of circling Calla's eyes narrowed even further. Neither of the fighters noticed when Jauffre entered the courtyard from a door not far away and settled into the empty seat beside me. Darius and Calla drew every eye in the courtyard.

Calla lunged again, this time in a flurry of cuts that drove Darius back, her sword whipping through the air and their blades clanging together when the met, and Darius managed to deflect every attack but I could see from his grimace that it had cost him. He looked for a moment like he might change hands before he stretched his shoulders and waited again, tracking her with his eyes and making no move to attack.

Calla scowled.

"He's trying to goad her into carelessness," Jauffre said at my side, quietly enough no one else could hear him. "It won't work."

She took a step back, thinking quickly, eyes intent.

"Her parents were trainers at the arena in Kvatch," Jauffre explained in a low voice. "You can see it in her fighting style, the elegant brutality to the way she moves. Against one opponent on level ground she's almost unbeatable." He shook his head. "I wonder if Darius might be outmatched. Either way, do you realize how extraordinary this match is? To have the Champion of Cyrodiil and the Nerevarine sparring? The head of the Arena will weep when he hears of it."

I smiled.

Darius finally struck, swinging his black sword in an arc that Calla stopped a foot from her ear, pressing forward in a forceful counterattack. Elegant brutality… I could see it. She lunged forward, low and aggressive, moving like a she-wolf on the hunt.

Friendly match or no, I began to worry a little for Darius.

He retreated a step, shifting his weight before swinging at her again, and they battered at each other without interruption, pushing back and forth in an intricate dance of blades. The ring of metal on ebony filled the air as they moved. Calla was stronger than any woman I'd ever seen and her sword was light and agile, whipping through the air almost too quick to follow. Darius' longsword was more powerful, and heavier, but he didn't have the strength to wield it as he would have normally, and before too long his other hand came to the hilt of it, giving him more stability. He managed to block her attacks, mostly. Once, her blade sliced over his side, the attack barely turned by the chainmail.

Darius couldn't touch her. Every time he swung she blocked, battering him back with her shield, twisting his blade away and trying to open up a hole in his defenses. Cold winter air or not, they sweated with the effort of the fight and Darius looked pale.

No one in the courtyard made a sound.

A few times I was sure it was over, that Darius had been bested, but he always managed to move just out of reach of her blade, always managed to stay a step ahead of her. He may not have been trained from childhood to fight, but he'd bested some of the most powerful fighters in the world. He fought with his brain, I think, as much as his sword, but he was getting tired. His hair was plastered to his forehead and his breathing had grown labored, while Calla barely looked winded. She hounded him relentlessly, and while she might not have any political finesse her skill with a blade was undeniable.

But if Calla was a she-wolf Darius was the wind sweeping down the foyada, tricky and changeable. When she charged again he made some sort of feint, and as momentum carried her past him he swept out his leg, buckling her knees and sweeping her off her feet entirely, and she came down hard flat on her back.

Beside me, Jauffre winced, but when he caught me looking he resumed his normal reserved expression, turning his eyes back to the fighters.

It was over. Darius extended a hand and helped her up, and Calla got to her feet, flushed and shaking her head. "That was pretty damn low, you know that?" There wasn't any malice or accusation in her voice, just grudging humor.

"It was a Blade that taught it to me. I figured it was fair game." He held out his hand. "Thanks for the match. You're incredible."

She shook his hand and grinned. "You're not half bad yourself."

Baurus clapped Darius on the back—on his injured shoulder, I noticed—and Darius grimaced. "Great fight," Baurus said. "You up to celebrate?"

Darius managed a laugh. "Anywhere but Luther Broad's."

Baurus smiled good-naturedly. "Your pick, then. You coming, Cal? Or are you still hung over from the other night?"

She looked at the sky, flushing a bit. "What is it, nearly sunset? I'll pass. Someone's got to make sure your priestess doesn't fall in the lake."

Darius looked at me, surprised, but I only shrugged. "All right, then. Later?"

I nodded and followed Calla out of the city, trying to keep up with her long, easy strides. She seemed more at ease than I'd ever seen her, as though the fight had been better medicine than anything in a bottle. When we got to what had become our regular spot on the hill she flopped down onto her back with a sigh of satisfaction, clouds reflecting in her eyes. Her head rolled my direction. "This your last day here, isn't it?"

I nodded.

"Good. I'm tired of babysitting you." I rolled my eyes and she chuckled. "You're not nearly as much of a stuck-up bitch as I thought you were, you know." I choked at her bluntness but she only grinned wider. "It's how you look in front of the politicians." She mimicked me, making a show of folding her hands. "Very proper. Good respectable manners. Usually people like you don't drink gods-only-know-what out of purple bottles and listen to me ramble on for ages and write notes on their arms. _Gods_, that stuff made me sick as a dog. You?"

I nodded. Even the memory of it made me feel queasy.

She let her head fall back, looking up at the sky. "Lesson learned, I guess. Until next time I feel like drinking, anyway. Are you coming back to the Imperial City after you go save the day over in Morrowind?"

I shook my head. _I don't think so._

She looked a little regretful. "Thought so. It's a shame though. There are still so many different bottles to try."

I smiled a little.

Calla raised her head, fingers buried in her damp black hair. "This is probably good-bye, isn't it? You're headed for the Arcane University in the morning?"

I nodded.

"Definitely good-bye, then. After that match I don't intend to be up tomorrow before three in the afternoon." We were quiet then for long minutes, watching the sun go down, the shimmering golds and reds reflecting on the rolling waters of the lake. It was peaceful. Cyrodiil was lovely.

But I was ready to go home.

We stood up when the sun slipped out of sight, heading back for the city. On impulse, I pulled Fena's ring off my thumb and held it out. Calla cocked an eyebrow in curiosity and took it. "It's kind of plain. Is it special?"

I nodded, holding up a hand in a 'sort-of' gesture. She made to hand it back, and I shook my head. _Keep it._

Calla looked confused. "You want me to keep it?"

I nodded.

"Why?"

I shrugged.

She laughed a little. "Okay." It had been almost too big for my thumb, but it fit her finger like it belonged there. "I don't have anything for you, though."

I shrugged again.

She looked thoughtful. "You ever get back into the Imperial City come look me up, okay? We'll go throw eggs at the guards or put spiders in Jauffre's underwear drawer or… something. Draw things on the dragon statue, maybe. Moustaches if we can get up high enough."

The thought of it made me smile.

Inside the palace we went our separate ways, parting at the long hallway that led to the wing Darius and I were staying in. I stayed there until she was almost out of sight, and when she turned around and saw me still there she waved.

I waved back, wondering why I suddenly felt like I would miss her.

-oOo-

We got equipped and ready to go early the next morning and made it to the Arcane University by an hour after dawn, only to discover that mages kept odd schedules, and the higher-ranking the mage, the less eager they were to budge their schedule for anyone else. The irritable Altmer woman who was to send us back to Morrowind was apparently a high-ranking mage.

We waited until mid-afternoon for her to show up, and she finally bustled in, looking cross. "You two, then. You need sent to Mournhold?"

I shook my head, alarmed. If we showed up in Mournhold we'd be taken prisoner on the spot, or worse.

"Ebonheart, actually," Darius said, looking reluctant. I'd teased him before about his dislike of mage travel, but looking at the woman who was to send us hundreds and hundreds of miles away on a single spell, I began to share his trepidation.

She frowned. "Vivec would be easier."

Darius looked doubtful. "Vivec's heavily patrolled. Our mission is of a rather sensitive nature."

She wrinkled her nose in distaste. "Very well, then, Ebonheart. Indoors or out?"

Darius glanced at me. "A little distance outside the city, if you can."

She looked disdainful. "Of course I can. Hold still."

And then the world was a blur of color and rushing light, hurtling by and around and it was worse, somehow, than the time we'd jumped from Ebonheart to Mournhold. I wondered if it was because it was farther.

And then we were there. Vvardenfell. The air was different, the scent of the breeze as comforting as a long-loved blanket. Even dizzy as I was from the travel I wanted to cry for joy. It seemed a very long time since I'd been home.

It was only about a half-mile from where we'd landed to the docks at the shore of the Inner Sea, and once we'd crept in we settled under one of the piers that was up mostly on land, sitting back to wait for sunset. I rested back against Darius' chest, leaning against him and listening to the sound of his heartbeat. I didn't mean to doze off but I did, and I slept until he shook me awake, pointing at the pier above.

The sun was going down, and someone sat on the edge of the pier, whistling. I smiled, despite my bleariness. I recognized that whistle.

We came out from underneath the pier to find Brennan dangling his legs over the edge, holding a fishing pole idly. Darius grinned. "Mother Mara, are we glad to see _you_."

Brennan's head came up and he beamed. "I was beginning to worry something had happened. How are you?"

Darius sighed, looking like the weariness of the last couple months was catching up with him. "We could be better," he admitted. "Alora's been silenced, we think, maybe permanently. I took a couple injuries; I'm still not really in fighting shape. It's…" He shook his head. "It's not been the easiest thing in the world."

Brennan pulled up his line, tossing the rest of the soggy bread into the water before we headed our way. "No. I don't imagine it has been. Come to the chapel for a bit; we've got excellent healers. We'll see if we can't get you straightened out." Brennan's arm came around me as we walked into the city, squeezing me lightly. "I missed you, heathen. Morrowind's not the same knowing all the people I love in the world are elsewhere."

The chapel did have excellent healers. Within an hour, Darius' shoulder moved even easier and some of his old strength had been returned. None of them could tell me why I couldn't talk, though, and I left the chapel frustrated.

In Brennan's little cell, he shouldered a pack. "Right, then. I know Caius is impatient to have the pair of you back. If you're ready, we can go."

I nodded. At my side, Darius nodded too.

Brennan smiled. "Off to Mournhold we go, then. Hold on."

He cast his spell, and the world began to move.


	36. Chapter 36

The world stopped moving but my head still spun and the colors around me wouldn't settle and stop shifting. I heard Darius groan beside me and it seemed like the sound itself was moving, twirling around inside my ears. I tried to take a step forward and lost my balance entirely, falling to my hands and knees and closing my eyes against the vertigo, trying to take deep breaths.

"Here, now," I heard a familiar voice say, footsteps getting closer. "Steady." Hands came around my arms and guided me upwards, and though I didn't dare open my eyes because I still thought I might be sick, there was only one person that voice could have belonged to: Caius.

"That was awful," Darius complained from nearby.

Brennan sounded embarrassed. "Sorry. I'm not very good at it yet. But at least we're all here in one piece. Or… our own separate pieces. It's harder than it looks, you know."

"Speaking of which," Caius began dryly, still holding me steady. "I thought I'd only said to send the two of them along. I appreciate the help, but you're free to return to your chapel, now."

There was a moment of hesitation before Brennan answered cheerfully, "No, I don't think so."

I cracked open my eyes to find Caius looking irritated. "Excuse me?"

"I'm not going back." Caius said nothing. "I don't know what you're doing, exactly, just that you're hiding from the Tribunal's enforcers and you've got Alora involved," Brennan explained. "If you had sufficient allies you wouldn't have come to the chapel and asked a total stranger to aid you. You need me. And I want to make sure my sister isn't being recklessly endangered."

After a moment, Caius looked down at me. "He's as bad as you are, isn't he?"

I nodded.

"We prepared the hall for three people, not four," Caius pointed out. The chamber didn't look like a damp ruin any more. Lamps and braziers filled the rooms with light and warmth, and there were rugs on the floors and books and papers stacked on the tables. It looked like Caius had been here for a while.

"I don't eat much," Brennan retorted calmly. "And I won't be any trouble."

Caius frowned a little. "You're already trouble," he said, and frowned at me. "You're quiet. Daedra got your tongue?"

"She's silenced. Perhaps permanently," Brennan cut in. "Though the healers didn't know why."

Caius' frown grew more severe. "Silenced."

_Not my idea_, I said, though it was futile. _Believe me._

"I believe you," said Caius.

I stared up at him in shock. _You… _He could hear me. But that wasn't right… _You can read lips_, I said, feeling a little thunderstruck. He had done it before, intercepting the carriage when I was coming back from Necrom. I hadn't remembered.

"Yes." He smiled at my expression. "It's a handy skill, don't you think?"

He could read lips. Which meant he could understand me. I fought the absurd urge to burst into tears at the thought that I might have an actual conversation with someone. _Yes. Very handy._

He was looking at me oddly. "Why don't we all go sit down and have something to eat? You both look a little worse for the wear."

"Can't imagine why," Darius grumbled, sitting at the table. "We've been in prison once, Oblivion three times, I got my guts ripped out by a daedroth and Alora's lost her voice and the whole world's gone to hell. For me, this has been a fetching vacation."

"Prison?" Caius asked, at the same time that Brennan demanded, "_Oblivion?_"

"I told you to watch your mouth around Ocato," Caius said mildly.

_I did_, I insisted.

"Almalexia's people had got word to him before we got there. They held us for treason and regicide. We were hours away from execution by the time Ocato decided to run his own investigation. If Morrowind hadn't seceded we might still be under house arrest waiting for the investigator's results." Darius tucked in to the food Caius set in front of us.

"_Execution_," Brennan choked out, looking at Darius with incredulity and rising ire. "And Oblivion. _Three times?_"

Darius stopped chewing and nodded, warily.

Brennan looked stormy. "I trust there was a damned good reason for dragging my sister into danger like _that_."

Caius cut him off. "Your sister is alive and in one piece, remember. And I doubt wild horses could drag her anywhere she didn't want to go."

_Except prison_, I amended.

He nodded. "Except prison." Caius sat across from me, steepling his fingers on the table. "It's been an eventful few months, hasn't it? I don't expect a full report tonight. Tomorrow will be good enough. You must have got my letter, since you're here."

I nodded.

"I've heard ancient prophecies less convoluted than that letter you sent," Darius complained.

Caius glanced at him, amused. "And yet you're here. Which means that between the pair of you, you had sufficient brains to figure it out. Do you still have it?"

I glanced down at my plate but nothing seemed appealing_. No. I burned it when I had it memorized._

"Excellent. I couldn't be as clear in the letter as I wanted to be. Still, better for it not to fall into anyone else's hands."

Darius swallowed. "We got the part about coming to Ebonheart, obviously. And we think that the beginning part—the fourfold reflections—Alora thought that sounded like Divayth Fyr."

"Yes." Caius leaned back in his chair. "That's the heart of the deception, it seems. Creating copies by means of Fyr's methods to fool the people into believing Almalexia's still alive."

_Was he murdered?_ I asked_. It sounded like it._

"Along with all his daughters, all his servants, and everyone in the corprusarium," Caius confirmed. "Which tells me someone didn't want them talking." He reached for a nearby quill and paper and drew for a moment. "Have you seen this symbol anywhere? It keeps popping up in places I have suspicions about."

It was a stylized hourglass behind three vertical slashing lines. I shook my head. _Where have you seen it?_

Caius frowned at the symbol. "Correspondence that seems otherwise ordinary. Shipping manifests, sometimes. I managed to intercept a letter a couple days ago with this symbol on the seal but it's in Daedric and it gives me a headache just to look at. I was hoping you would see if there's anything useful in it."

I nodded.

"Not immediately, of course. I've made that trip more times than I care to remember; I know it's draining. For now…" He tapped a finger on the table, looking pensive. "For now I want to hear about Martin."

-oOo-

I had never known Martin and so had nothing to contribute to the conversation, but as evening wore on I listened to Darius give his account of what had happened. It can't be possible to really get to know a person from a half-hour's acquaintance, but Darius had listened to the other Blades talk about him and had woven together a sense of who the man had been, what he'd been like as a priest, at Cloud Ruler Temple, at the end.

Darius didn't bring up what he'd told me about the final few seconds of his time in the Temple of the One, and I didn't say anything.

But after Caius seemed satisfied and the conversation steered more towards Blade business I started having trouble keeping my eyes open, and the second time I had to jerk awake before I ended up with my face in my plate I gave up and headed for one of the bedrolls. Brennan followed a minute later, scooting his pallet close to mine and burrowing under its blanket. "That's two out of three taken up," he said quietly, amused. "Should be entertaining to watch the two of them duke it out for the last one, hmm?"

I smiled, rolling my eyes a little. _Let them cuddle up together for all I care._

He scooted closer. "I wish you could talk. I have so many things I want to ask you, and I've always wanted to go to Cyrodiil. What's it like?"

_Ask me in the morning_, I said, yawning. _I'll write out my answers_. He didn't understand, but he smiled anyway before he pulled the blanket up to his nose and closed his eyes.

I settled in for the night, lulled by the sound of my brother's breathing and the low hum of the conversation in the next room.

-oOo-

Icy water poured in my nose and ears as I twisted, struggling, tangled in something that wouldn't let me go and I couldn't breathe. My chest burned and no one was around to help and somewhere someone was laughing. I woke up, gasping silently for air, mostly off the bedroll and digging my nails into the stone of the floor.

But there was no whisper in my head, no pull of command. Just a dream. I pushed up out of the pallet, shuddering all over, and stumbled to my feet. In the other room, Caius sat awake at the table, staring into the contents of a wineglass and idly holding a quill. He looked up when he heard the scuff of my footsteps approaching. "Can't sleep?"

I shook my head, sitting down across from him and resting my elbows on the table, rubbing at my forehead. _You?_

"Mmm. I have rather a lot on my mind at the moment."

In the low, flickering candlelight he looked tired. More than tired, he looked… defeated. Angry. It wasn't hard to guess why. _They didn't tell you about Martin, did they? When they ordered you back to Cyrodiil?_

"No." He took a slow swallow. "I'd have gone, if I'd known. I wouldn't have wasted time worrying about Morrowind and Almalexia if…" He cut himself off. "Not that it would have made any difference." Frustration seemed to settle into the lines around his eyes, his usual wry humor completely gone.

_Watch_, Darius had said, _Caius will be all out of smug and then we'll be doomed_. I picked at a splinter on the table, trying not to think about it.

"So, about your voice. How long has it been gone?" He pulled over another glass, raising it at me in an offering gesture.

I held up a hand in refusal. _Since the last day of the year, when the Imperial City was attacked._

Caius looked at me a moment. "And it means no spells, doesn't it? You're as good as mundane without a voice."

I nodded, feeling tired.

He frowned, slightly. "What if it _is_ permanent?"

I shrugged unhappily.

"Don't shrug at me," Caius said, irritated. "I understand you well enough and you've got a mouth; use it."

It was the absolute wrong time for taking that the wrong way, I knew it was, but I couldn't help a silent laugh.

It didn't take Caius long to catch on. "Oh, for heaven's sake." For a moment he seemed to teeter between amusement and annoyance as the corner of his mouth twitched. "The world's gone to pieces and all I've got is a silenced insomniac priestess with her mind in the gutter."

_It could be worse_, I offered. _We could be down here starving and sick again_.

He picked up his cup, swirling the contents. "That's true."

We were quiet again for a moment, both of us thinking. Finally I said, _Do you want me to try and read that letter now?_

"Actually, I'd rather hear your thoughts on this Hero of Kvatch. Darius tells me the two of you became rather friendly."

I thought a moment_, _talking slowly. _She's… young. I think she feels out of place in the Imperial City. She's_… I tried to think_. She's brilliant with a sword and she's bright enough, but she's being kept out of the way, and I think it bothers her. She was from Kvatch. And I think she lost her family when the daedra came. I think it still hurts._

Caius mulled that over. "People in pain tend to make very bad decisions. Does she seem to have any designs on the throne? Darius told me she and Martin were involved."

_No. She doesn't like politicians. And they're not exactly crazy about her, either._

"Hmm." He looked thoughtful.

I yawned, widely_. I think I'm going back to bed. You'll be okay?_

He raised an eyebrow. "You're worried about me?"

I shrugged a little. _You seem to have lost your smug_.

"My…" He looked like he thought he'd misread me. "My what?"

I stole the quill from his fingers and wrote on a nearby scrap of paper: _your smug_.

He looked doubtful. "Lost my smug?"

I nodded.

Caius rubbed at his eyes, looking tired. "Now you're just talking nonsense."

I headed back to the other room, for the warmth of my bedroll. How long Caius stayed awake staring at nothing and thinking about dead men, I didn't know.


	37. Chapter 37

When I woke up again Brennan and Darius were still sleeping. Being underground again was disorienting—I had no idea what time it was, just that I wasn't tired anymore—and I slipped out of Darius' grasp and headed for the main room to find Caius awake and reading.

I was about to ask him if he'd gone to sleep at all when I got a better look at what he was reading: the book of poisons, my family heirloom.

He glanced up. "Good morning." I slid into the chair across from him and nodded, trying to figure out how to explain something I really didn't want to explain.

"Can you make all these?"

The directness of the question and its lack of judgment surprised me. I grasped for words for a moment as he waited expectantly. _I don't know. I haven't tried. But… yes. I probably could. _

He turned back to the book. "Good." He thumbed quickly through a series of pages. "Some of these could be very useful." He read on, skimming over the pages, reading backwards as I had.

No _what's this_, no _why are you carrying around an old book of poisons_, no _why is your mother's name in here and what does all this mean_. Just another quick glance up at me. "There's tea if you want some."

I poured a cup, hardly paying attention as I drank it, watching him read. He had to know what it was. It was Caius, after all; he could figure out less obvious puzzles in his sleep. And the book was right there with my mother's name in it and _my _name in it in a few places and poison recipes tracing backward through the years.

My flicker of annoyance at him was short-lived. I should have known he'd look through my pack. He'd opened my letters before without the slightest hint of hesitation or remorse. _You have no manners at all_, I told him. He wasn't looking at me so I don't think he caught the exact words, but one side of his mouth quirked up anyway.

We sat like that for some time, him reading and me watching him read, tilting my head sometimes to get a better view of the words. But when I heard the telltale sounds of someone waking up in the other room I put my hand across the page to get his attention. _Brennan doesn't know, _I said when he glanced up.

He didn't let go of the book, just looked at me, considering. "And you don't intend to tell him."

I only hesitated for a moment_. No. _

He knew, I could tell that he knew. What the book meant, why I had it, why I was keeping it secret from my gentle, pure-hearted priest of a brother. But he merely shut it and pushed it my direction. "Best put it away, then."

When I tucked the book as deeply in my pack as I could I discovered a pair of envelopes he hadn't touched, tucked away in one of the pockets. _You missed something when you were rummaging through my things_, I told him, tossing one of them down in front of him. _This is for you_.

He looked unimpressed. "I read lips, not minds. You can't babble in the other direction and expect me to understand a word you're saying." Caius broke the seal on the letter declaring his innocence, skimming it quickly at first and then sitting straight up in his chair when the words commanded his full attention. "This…" he looked over at me, surprised.

_You're welcome_, I answered, smiling behind my cup and feeling a bit smug.

He finished reading, and laughed in surprise. "Thank you. This is… this is much appreciated."

_You owe me_, I said. _So we should really renegotiate this me owing you my life business. I think this is at least good for one time_.

Brennan made his way in, sleep-rumpled and smiling. "Morning, Alora. Caius. Is there tea?"

"There is indeed." Caius pushed a mug over as Brennan settled into the chair beside me, running a hand through his unruly hair.

He yawned. "Thanks."

I put the letter on the table in front of Brennan as he took a long swallow and he looked at me, curious. "A letter for me?"

I nodded.

He reached for it, smiling. "Is it from Mother?"

I shook my head.

He gave me a baffled look, cracking the seal on the envelope and pulling out the letter Hastrel had written him. He blinked in surprise when he glanced over the first few lines and started over, reading the entire thing slowly, hardly breathing.

Caius frowned a little, watching him. "Bad news?"

Brennan seemed shaken. "No. Not bad. Just…" He glanced over at me, stunned. "You met him?"

I nodded. _He seems nice_.

Brennan didn't understand.

"She said he seems nice," Caius translated. "_Who_ seems nice?"

"Our father," Brennan said, a little faintly. "He's… wow." He grinned at me, surprise giving way to joy. "I can't believe you just waltzed into Cyrodiil and found him."

_I didn't_, I said. _He found me. You're not upset? _Tossing a letter at him first thing in the morning wasn't exactly the best way I could have handled it, after all. Maybe handling such things badly ran in the family.

Caius translated again, looking curious and amused.

"No," Brennan said quickly. "Not upset. Envious, actually, but not… not upset. I didn't think I'd ever hear from him."

Caius looked wry. "Sounds like your time in Cyrodiil was rather enlightening. Go get Darius up. I'd like to hear your reports." I frowned at the order, but he merely said, "You can do it, or I can do it. And I guarantee he won't like it if I do it."

A few minutes later I'd managed to get Darius to stagger to the table, only half-awake but hungry, and he gulped down a cup of the strong tea quickly before tucking in to the food Caius had put on the table. Caius watched him, exasperated. "I'd forgotten that you eat like a whole pack of wolves. We'll have to resupply before long."

Darius stopped, looking a little embarrassed. "Sorry."

"Don't be. You're healing; you need your strength. I should have expected it." Caius pushed the platter of food my direction. "Hungry?"

I should have been, but wasn't. Nothing looked good, and the yellowish cheese quivering limply next to the pears smelled awful. I passed.

"How long did it take you to get to the Imperial City after we separated?" Caius asked, settling back in his chair.

Darius and I mulled it over, trying to remember. "Three weeks, I think? I don't remember exactly," he said, looking to me for confirmation.

"Did you run into bad weather?"

"Oblivion gates." Darius tore apart a piece of bread. "One blocked the pass to Cyrodiil; we had to close it to get through. There were another two we were asked to close at Aleswell and that ate up another day. And we did some information gathering in Cheydinhal."

He didn't mention the two days we'd spent in bed in that cabin, but Caius frowned a little, looking as though he was adding it up and coming up short.

"Anyway," Darius continued, swallowing, "when we went to the palace we were intercepted. They said they'd received word we were coming to assassinate Ocato, so we got thrown in prison for a day. Ocato agreed to open his own investigation that night and we were moved to house arrest for… what was it, a few weeks?" He looked at me, and I tried to count it up. "Almost a month, I think. But when Morrowind seceded, Ocato decided that since the impostor was the one being treasonous, it was likely she was responsible for the assassinations as well. Or at least unlikely that we were responsible. But before he'd let us go he told us about Martin, and sent us to Bruma to help up there. We never made it, though."

"No?"

Darius took a long swallow of tea. "We passed the Blades on the road. They were heading to the Imperial City. But my horse had some shoeing problems on the road and couldn't be ridden, so I took Alora's horse and followed the Blades. After they decided I wasn't some crazy pretender trying to get close to their Emperor they let me come with them. I already told you the rest."

Caius rubbed at his chin, looking thoughtful. "Who was it that intercepted you on your way to Ocato?"

Darius frowned. "I don't know. I never caught his name. He was Imperial, middle-aged. Not very friendly. Why?"

"We have to consider that Almalexia—"

"The impostor," Darius interrupted.

"The impostor," Caius allowed, a little irritated. "We have to consider that the impostor, or the group behind her rise to power, might have agents in the Imperial Palace." Caius looked over at me, pensive. "Where were you when Darius was with the Blades?"

_On the road_, I answered. _I had to walk, but I followed Darius. I didn't catch up with him, though._

He frowned. "When exactly did you lose your voice?"

I thought back. _After the Oblivion gates opened inside the Imperial City. When Dagon was there, before the Dragon came. _

"When Dagon was there," Caius repeated, looking thoughtful.

_Any ideas?_

"Not really," he admitted. "But I've a feeling the timing of it might be important. It's you, and it happened when Dagon was here; it's almost got to be daedric in origin. We'll ask one of the older priestesses when we see them again."

I had figured it was daedric, but I blinked. _Priestesses?_

"Ah, yes." He stepped away from the table for a moment, returning with something folded in his hands. "Your little Bosmer friend wanted me to give you this."

Brennan looked curious. "What is it?"

I unfolded it when Caius handed it over in a soft spill of fabric. It was my cloak, dark blue and deeply hooded. Everyone at the temple of Azura had one for the coldest winter days.

I'd left mine behind when I went with Darius. And _your little Bosmer friend_ had to mean Fena…

_You're working with the temple_, I said.

Caius nodded. "The enemy of my enemy."

I toyed with the clasp on my cloak idly, trying to think.

"Let me catch you up," he said, sitting down again. "You know that I went to Ebonheart and Tel Fyr. I managed to find that temple by the sea. Temples, really. They're out in that archipelago. You were right. They've got more impostors there, more copies of Almalexia."

I glanced at Darius, who looked a little sick. _How many more?_ I asked.

"Five. Of differing ages. The youngest one is still a child. Six or seven years old, I'd say. Which makes sense, I suppose. If you're going to go to the trouble of replacing a goddess who doesn't age, you've always got to have a replacement ready that's close enough to be convincing. But still…" he sighed, shaking his head. "It looks like they keep them tightly controlled, and completely separate. There are multiple compounds scattered, mostly hidden around the area. I couldn't do much about it then, not on my own. But I have a plan." He poured himself another cup of tea. "Our main impostor's planning some sort of major announcement at her temple, next Loredas at noon. Word's been spread throughout the city, so I imagine there'll be a large crowd."

"Do you know what she's planning to announce?" Darius cut in.

"Not exactly." Caius wrapped his hands around his mug. "I have my theories. She's already announced secession this way, so odds are that it's something similarly important. If I had to guess… I'd assume that the attacks up at Khuul and Thirsk are related, that they were done deliberately to rile anti-human sentiment among the Dunmer. My guess is she's going to announce that Morrowind is a Dark Elf nation and that the Imperial invaders and all their human friends can get the hell out. Or go back to an extremely limited sort of access; can only live in restricted areas again, that sort of thing."

Brennan looked appalled. "Can she _do_ that?"

Caius shrugged. "It's her country now, as far as she knows. She can do whatever she wants. Or whatever she's being told to do. Of course, I don't intend to let her make her little announcement, whether that's it or not."

I raised my eyebrows. _Oh?_

"No. I told you I had a plan. Though in all fairness, your High Priestess suggested most of it; I can't take too much credit. We're kidnapping the impostors from the archipelago, right before the one in Mournhold makes her big announcement. Then, when half the city's gathered to hear her speak… we bring them before her. They all look very much alike and there's two almost her age that are near-identical. When the people see that there are copies that all believe themselves to be the goddess, and we show the people it's all been a lie—particularly now that you're here, Darius, your word that she's a fake should have some considerable weight—it should be enough. So we show up with all her ready-made replacements, explain that she's an impostor, accuse her of killing Barenziah and Helseth to make a grab for the throne. All very dramatic. And all very public, which is exactly what we need if any of it is going to be widely believed."

Darius was nodding, thoughtful. "It sounds like a fair plan. Is there anything we need to do to move it along?"

Caius shook his head. "Not at the moment. Everything's in place. We just have to wait for Loredas to get here."

I took a deep breath, thinking. Five days. Five days and it would be over, one way or another.

-oOo-

A bit later that afternoon Caius had me look at the letter he'd intercepted.

_Where did you find it?_ I asked, starting to skim.

"It was being taken by courier. He was intercepted just outside Seyda Neen."

Brennan chopped vegetables across the room, making a soup, and looked over. "Won't the courier talk, though?"

Caius laughed shortly. "No."

Brennan looked taken aback.

_I thought you weren't supposed to kill messengers_, I said mildly.

"He's not dead," Caius explained, faintly irritated. "He got caught with the captain of the guard's wedding ring in his pocket and now he's in jail for a couple months. That's all."

Brennan still looked perturbed. _That's a pretty bold theft for a simple courier_, I said.

Caius smirked. "It would have been if he had done it. Read," he ordered. "And don't you go distracting her. I want to know what that letter says," he grumbled at Darius. "If you're still healing up, go rest and do it. I'd rather you be in top condition by the time Loredas rolls around. If this goes badly we might end up fighting our way out of Mournhold."

With that cheerful thought in mind, I turned my attention to the letter. It wasn't all that long, and translating it outright and letting Caius read it for himself was going to be easier than reading it and then trying to tell him what it said. I worked for a little while, writing automatically as I read the Daedric script, but two-thirds of the way through the letter I paused, re-reading the passage I'd just written out:

_As regards the subjects, they fare better than expected. The move to new accommodations proceeded according to plan and without incident. The new site seems ideal. Since the city's abandonment the nearby Legion outpost no longer patrols, and the natural separations in the city's unique architecture provide significant advantage in maintaining the subjects' equilibrium. We did have one small incident after the move was complete, but guards managed to subdue the subject without permanently harming him. These occasional episodes are to be expected given the volatile nature of this particular group and are being contained with watchful professionalism, as always._

I glanced up at Darius, who was reading over my shoulder, frowning in confusion.

Caius looked up from what he was writing. "You found something?"

I nodded and handed over the papers I'd written out. He read them quickly, eyes darting over the pages, slowing when he came to the end. "Subjects. Another group of subjects."

"They're at Ald'ruhn," Darius said. "They've got to be. An abandoned city with a Legion outpost nearby and the strange architecture? I can't think of anywhere else that would fit."

I nodded agreement.

Caius scowled down at the paper. "But… him. They say _him_. All their other subjects are female."

_It could be a copy of Vivec or Sotha Sil_, I said, but Caius wasn't watching.

Darius had caught the gist of it, though. "Vivec had a lot more influence on Vvardenfell than Almalexia. It's possible they'd want to have a copy of him too. Have a miraculous rebirth as a show of power, or something."

"It's something." Caius set down the letter, looking at us. "They're hiding _something_. And I agree, it sounds like Ald'ruhn. After we get rid of Almalexia we're going to go find out what they're up to. I don't know who this group is, but they're in for a set of nasty surprises."

"Why not go now?" Darius looked puzzled. "Loredas is still days away. We could get to Ald'ruhn, clear it out, and get back to Mournhold by then."

Caius thought a moment. "No. We don't know what's there. It could be a red herring. It could be something insignificant. If we show up at Ald'ruhn and go on the attack we lose the element of surprise for Loredas, and we're going to need it. We can't risk tipping our hand on this one. We'll go as soon as the impostor here is out of the way. Is there anything else in the letter?"

I translated the last bit of it dutifully, but there wasn't anything useful.

Caius stewed over it, leaning back in his chair and looking thoughtful. Brennan meandered over, settling across from Darius. "So what do we do now?"

"Nothing," Caius said absently. "Nothing we _can_ do right now, I think."

Darius glanced over at Brennan. "You play cards, by chance?"

Brennan smiled a little. "I've been known to gamble a time or two. Do you have a deck?"

"I do, actually. You in, Alora?"

"No," Caius said, coming out of his reverie. "You two play. I have another game in mind for her."

Darius pushed out of his chair. "Spies and their spy games. I get it. Knock yourselves out." He smiled crookedly at me.

Caius looked amused. "Spy games. Not quite." He rose, crossing over to a chest of drawers. "Have you ever played chess before?"

I shook my head when he turned back around, putting a checkered board on the table between us and pulling light and dark pieces out of a drawstring pouch. "Cards are good practice," he said, setting the pieces up in lines. "How to keep a straight face, how to read an opponent, that sort of thing. But cards have that element of luck, of random chance. Chess removes the element of randomness. There's no luck involved. Only skill." He set the pouch aside. "Chess is war." Caius glanced up at me, looking wry. "Time you learn how it's done."

With that, he began to teach me. I didn't so much play chess with Caius as I _lost_ to Caius, very quickly and many, many times in a row. Once he'd explained the pieces, their movements, and the rules, it hadn't sounded so hard.

I should have known better.

It was strategy, and he excelled at it. The first several games he barely glanced at my moves, taking my pieces and unraveling my assaults with ease. After that, he began to move more slowly, not because I was mounting any kind of intelligent attack that he needed to defend against, but because he made me explain every move I made, why I'd chosen it, why I thought it was a sound strategy. Invariably, he'd counter my moves with steady efficiency, explaining his reasoning as he did so, teaching me to calculate the odds and variables of an opponent's movements.

We spent the rest of that day and all of the next playing. When Darius broke out his deck of cards again, Caius noticed and motioned him over. "Play over here, if you would. Come talk with us at the table."

I frowned. _I'm not going to be able to concentrate on chess if they're talking right next to me._

"Exactly. Your move."

I moved a pawn, which he immediately took. He considered the position of his pieces. "You've got to learn to concentrate on more than one thing at a time. To say one thing while you're doing another thing entirely."

I frowned again, puzzled. _That doesn't sound like war. That sounds like politics._

His only answer was a small half-smile.

I sat back in my chair, thinking, my forehead wrinkled as I watched him. _This isn't just a game, is it?_

"It's never just a game. And it's your move again." When Brennan and Darius settled in their chairs next to us, Caius glanced over at them. "Any interesting stakes?"

"Not really." Darius shuffled. "Whoever loses this game has to cook tomorrow."

"You mean _you'll_ be cooking tomorrow," Brennan corrected, looking deceptively mild. "You've already lost four games in a row; you'll lose this one too."

Caius studied the chessboard. "I'll cook tomorrow. I have an assignment for you. Both of you."

They exchanged a curious glance.

"We need to resupply," Caius said. "Which is easily done; we've only got a few more days. But I want you to be seen tomorrow," he told Darius. "Very publicly, very casually, somewhere that's not Mournhold. Ebonheart would be a good choice. I want Brennan to go with you, and if there's any trouble with guards or the impostor's agents, I want you both back here immediately. I'm curious to see what'll happen when our impostor hears that you're on Vvardenfell. See if she lays low or sends in men to go find you, that sort of thing. It might give us an indication of how tight her grip is on Morrowind, exactly, and if Vvardenfell's any exception."

Darius nodded slowly. "Right. What about Alora?"

Caius glanced at the board with a hint of impatience. "Alora stays here. I want to go through her version of events again, and it'll be easier to make it out when it's quiet."

Darius glanced at me, eyebrows raised in question, but if Caius was up to something, I didn't know what. "All right." Darius toyed with a card. "We'll make for Ebonheart tomorrow morning. Anything in particular we need?"

I bit my lip, looking at the board with a sense of growing hopelessness. I was trapped, I knew I was trapped, I just didn't know how. I moved one of my castles.

"Food. The standard array of potions in case things get ugly come Loredas. If your armor or weapons need repaired, or if Brennan wants to be armed and armored, might as well take care of it. But make sure you're seen. Take time to talk to some guards, see how they feel about what's going on." Caius moved his queen, taking my castle. "You're improving," he offered. "But you still need to learn to act instead of reacting. As it is you're only defending a hopeless position without inflicting any real damage in return."

I thought about it, considering the pieces. _How do I act, then?_

He smiled a little. "We'll discuss that tomorrow."


	38. Chapter 38

Once Brennan and Darius had left—armed but optimistic about getting the chance to spend some time aboveground—I settled at the table, looking down at the chessboard and the positions of the pieces from my latest defeat.

Caius puttered a moment at the counter. "Do you want anything to eat before we begin?"

I shook my head, making a face. _Just tea, if we have some_, I said, raking my hands through my hair and trying to get it into some semblance of order.

"We do." Caius brought a pair of cups and a redware urn to the table, pouring for both of us. He gestured at the board. "Do you see where you went wrong?"

_I lost_.

He chuckled a little. "Besides that."

I tried to work it through but couldn't, and ended up shaking my head.

He sat down. "Two major flaws. Firstly, you're only using a handful of pieces to do the majority of your work and forgetting to use all you have. You don't have to use every piece to win, but you have to remember to take all of your resources into account. Your pieces are an army. If you keep sending in the same few soldiers to do the same thing over and over you're not going to get anywhere. Secondly," he took a sip of tea, "you're too focused on the middle of the board. It's a good place to have control of and a good place to launch an assault from. But you're leaving your flanks unguarded. If an opponent sneaks in at the side and takes your king by surprise you're in just as much trouble as you would be facing down a full frontal attack."

I nodded, contemplating the board.

Three hard-fought games later I still hadn't won, and was beginning to despair that I ever would. I poured another cup of tea, trying to suppress my frustration. _Why are we doing this? We've only got two and a half days left to prepare. Isn't there something we should be doing instead of sitting around playing games?_

"Hmm? Say that again, I didn't catch it."

I repeated myself, trying to stay patient.

"We are doing something. I told you once that a bright mind is as good a weapon as a sword. Do you remember?"

_Yes_.

He twirled a bishop between his fingers. "You've been disarmed rather thoroughly, if you haven't noticed. I'm told you have no feel for weaponry, and without a voice magical training does you no good whatsoever. All you have left is your mind, and it's a crude instrument." I frowned and he went on, "Not that you aren't bright enough, don't give me that look. If I'd known you had potential I might have had you trained a decade ago and saved us all some time. But you can be as clever as the day is long and still hesitate when you need to act. Without certainty, which only comes from practice, you're vulnerable. Which makes Darius vulnerable, which makes us vulnerable, which makes our mission vulnerable."

For want of a nail, I thought.

Caius set the bishop down, lining up the board again. "You've never seen fox kits play, have you?" It wasn't really a question; he knew I hadn't. "They play by fighting. They stalk and pounce and wrestle with each other like they're mortal enemies instead of littermates. By the time they're adults and they have to fight in earnest, their skills are developed and they're ready. We're doing the same thing, here. We're playing at war so that when it comes, we're prepared, and we know how and when to move."

_You think war is coming?_

"I don't know how it can be prevented," Caius admitted, pouring himself more tea. "Secession isn't something an Empire just gets over. I know that Elsweyr's been suffering for a while but I think they've made a drastic misstep. And there's always the possibility of an alliance among the Elven nations. Cyrodiil's stretched thin in the aftermath of the assassinations and the Oblivion Crisis. They don't have the resources to fight properly, I think. But they won't give up control and territory easily, or bloodlessly. Skyrim's done rather well for itself but I have my suspicions about their loyalty. And things are only going to get worse if we don't manage to topple Almalexia. I've no doubt that once her grip on the nation is secure enough she'll start pushing at the borders. Black Marsh would fall within a couple of months, I think, and that would give her the entire eastern border of Tamriel, not to mention all the Argonian slaves she'd ever want. From there she could easily start pushing westward."

It was chess, I could see it, chess on a huge scale, with thousands of pieces and all Tamriel for the board. But it was people, real people, who stood to gain or lose, and who could know how many hands were moving the pieces?

_What does this have to do with me?_ I asked. Knowing about it was all well and good but I wasn't a Blade or a politician.

"You're part of it," he said. "Whether you want to be or not. You're part of it because Darius is. And if you're going to be dragged into the game anyway you may as well know what you're doing."

I stared into my tea, thinking, feeling his words like an unwelcome weight on my shoulders. Before I could brood over it, he tapped the board. "You open."

After a moment's consideration, I moved a knight.

Caius toyed with the top of a pawn before sliding it forward. "Do you remember our conversation yesterday about acting instead of reacting?" I nodded. "I want you to put that into practice." He watched me until I became uncomfortable. "How old were you when you joined the temple?"

I frowned in momentary confusion at the change in subject before I moved a pawn. _Seventeen_.

He sighed, more heavily than I'd ever heard him do it before. "I knew you had to be young; I didn't know you were still practically a child. I hope you've realized by now seventeen's too damned young to be tossing your life at the feet of a Daedra Lord."

_There was a boy_, I admitted, and winced. _A Dunmer. I wasn't Dunmer enough—_

He caught on quickly. "So you tried to be more native than the natives," he finished with a tired laugh. "And it worked out so well, too." I grimaced, embarrassed. He pushed a bishop sidelong, watching me more than the board. "Seventeen, then. And you were there ever since."

I nodded, wondering where the conversation was headed.

"And there aren't any men at the temple."

It didn't sound like a question, but I shook my head anyway, baffled.

"Hmm." He lapsed into silence, and we played for several minutes without speaking.

_What are you up to?_ I wanted to ask, but his expression was so guarded I only waited.

Finally he leaned forward, resting an elbow on the table and sliding a bishop halfway across the board. "It's been what, a few months since we parted ways and you left for Cyrodiil? Your move."

I moved my bishop to mirror his, and nodded.

He was quiet a moment as he made his move. "You don't seem to be feeling quite yourself lately."

_I don't have a voice_, I reminded him.

Caius made a dismissive gesture. "That's not what I mean. Ordinarily," he said slowly, "I'd just think your adventures were catching up with you. But you've been living in easy conditions for a while now in the Imperial City. Between that and your lack of worldliness in these matters, I don't believe that's it."

I frowned. _What do you mean?_

He took a long swallow of tea and set his cup aside. "It's not just a matter of you not feeling yourself. It's a matter of you not feeling well. You're hardly eating, and every time there's cheese on the table you start looking green."

_It smells bad_, I protested, moving a pawn. _Sorry_.

"Don't be sorry. But you didn't find it so repulsive when we were staying at the house." He watched me for a moment, his expression impossible to read. "You've also been tiring more easily than normal. Tired alone wouldn't worry me; tired and queasy and sleeping with Darius in combination are another matter."

I frowned at him, confused, but he just looked at me. It took me a while—a long while, it seemed—but it finally dawned on me what he was getting at.

_That's impossible_, I protested, panic bubbling up in my chest.

"Impossible?" he repeated, surprised. "If I'm wrong, say so, but unless I've completely misread the situation it's closer to inevitable."

I rested my elbows on the table and my head in my hands, feeling nothing but a vague, shocked terror and the heavy blankness of impending overload.

Caius considered the remaining pieces a moment. "Look. You've left your queen undefended," he admonished, plucking it from the board. "You should be more careful."

I pushed away from the table, feeling sick and pacing to the other side of the room.

"Remember," he said, far too calmly. "Act, don't react. If this is the situation you're in, this is the situation you have to work with, and that's information worth having."

I tried, taking deep breaths to keep calm, nodding. I'd been a little tired, I thought, trying to work it out. I hadn't been hungry. It was possible that travel had interrupted my body's cycles. There had been so much going on I hadn't paid much attention, but last time was... I thought back. Months ago. _How do I know?_ I asked, turning back around. _How do I know for sure?_

"Other than to see a healer, I don't know," he admitted. "All I can do is look at what's in front of me, but it seems likely. It doesn't seem probable you'd get a lingering illness in Cyrodiil staying in good housing and eating clean food. You're young and in good health, and with the pair of you making up for lost time, it's likelier that you'd conceive than not, I think."

_Don't tell Darius_, I said quickly, horrified.

Caius laughed, surprised. "And miss the look on his face when _you_ tell him? Never."

I leaned against the wall because my knees felt like they were going to give out, all the protests in my head crumbling. I hadn't thought about it, hadn't expected it, the timing was all wrong. Darius and I… we hadn't really talked about anything past our current mission except in the vaguest of terms. Nothing was certain, not even that I'd _live_ past Loredas, because if things went badly I didn't know if I'd make it out of the city again.

Caius watched me from the table. "If you're going to faint you might lie down. Less distance to fall, that way."

I shook my head, adamantly.

I hadn't even thought about what might come of all that time I'd spent in bed with Darius. I should have known better. _I'll be right back_, I told Caius, and I rushed out the side door to the underground stream and was thoroughly, miserably sick. There was nothing in my stomach but tea but my insides still felt twisted, my hands on the smooth rock of the streambank shaking uncontrollably.

Reality came to me, as cold and clear as the water. I was going to have a child. Which would make me a mother. And Darius…

I couldn't think about Darius.

After I'd washed my mouth out and splashed cold water on my face I walked back into the main room, trying to look less shattered than I felt. I sat down at my place at the table and started setting the pieces back for a new game, willing my hands to stop trembling.

Caius watched, curious. "You want to play?"

I nodded, trying to unclench my jaw. _I'm part of it, you said. _I took an unsteady breath_, _looking up to meet his eyes_. I might as well know what I'm doing._

Caius leaned back in his chair, regarding me for a long moment. "Good," he said finally, nodding approval. "Very good." He handed back the rest of my pieces.

-oOo-

Darius and Brennan came back in the evening, with full packs and a day's gossip to recount.

"I don't know about Morrowind as a whole," Darius said, settling down at the table while Brennan and I unpacked their purchases, "but Ebonheart's a mess. The guards are wondering why the Legion hasn't been sent in en masse to just take back Mournhold. The publican said a lot of people aren't waiting; they're getting out of Morrowind however they can because they think it's going to get worse. And there are rumors that Black Marsh has been mounting attacks across the border near Tear, which sounds as likely as Dagon coming back in a frilly skirt to have a tea party with Jauffre."

"That sounds like an excuse, to me." Caius was drinking some kind of brandy, looking into the depths of his glass. "Like the attacks at Khuul, I'd wager. Either they're fictitious or they've been orchestrated. Black Marsh can't afford war with Morrowind."

I piled the vegetables they'd bought into a large bowl, walking down to the stream and scrubbing them clean, my fingers going numb from the cold of the water as I worked. The food was coated with different soils from different places: dark dirt on the potatoes, sand on the ash yams, thin dust in the cracks of the carrots. Several minutes later I was rinsing out the rough cloth I'd been using when Darius rounded the corner and saw me, carrying a long, wrapped bundle. "There you are. How was chess?"

I smiled more easily than I thought I'd be able to. _Fine_.

He sat down beside me, putting his bundle to the side and stretching his legs. "I wish you could have gone. Just to get some air, even. It can't be healthy to stay underground like this." He took in the sight of the low ceiling, dissatisfied. "I can't believe you stayed here a week and a half while I was locked up at the palace."

If he thought this was bad, he should have seen it when we'd had hardly any light or food, I thought.

He leaned forward, surprising me by cupping a hand under my chin and kissing me. It was a little thing, an easy gesture. But I'd struggled to get myself back to some semblance of normalcy after the shock and fear of earlier, and the kiss, casual as it was, threatened to undo hours of concentration. _What was that for?_ I said when we broke apart.

"I actually understood that. I think I'm getting better at this." He pushed a lock of hair back over my shoulder. "You just looked like you needed it. I'll be glad when this is over and we can stop getting jerked around from place to place. Even you're starting to look a little worn out and you've taken everything in stride so far." He smiled.

I didn't know what to say. _I'm worn out because I'm pregnant_ might have been a good start, or at least an honest one. But I didn't say it.

He leaned to the side, pulling his bundle over. "I picked you up something in Ebonheart. I don't know if you'll like it or not, but…" He pushed it along the stone in front of me. "I hope so, anyway."

I untied the twine, pushing the fabric aside to reveal a graceful sweep of curved silver, a bow, long and beautiful. I brushed my fingers along the metal, admiring the craftsmanship. "It's not the one you had," Darius explained quickly. "I wasn't able to get that one back. But it's silver, like the last one, and it's strong. And look," he picked up the end of it, turning so I could see the motif. "It's roses, all along the ends. And vines down the body of it. It reminded me of you."

_It's beautiful._ I smiled, touched. _Thank you_.

"Well." He looked like he was trying not to be too pleased and failing. "I'm glad you like it. I thought… it doesn't seem like your voice is coming back. And as far as I'm concerned, I don't care." He froze. "This is coming out wrong," he said, catching my expression and sitting straighter. "Of course I hope you get your voice back. But even if it is permanent, it doesn't change anything. I'll learn to read lips, or we can write notes to each other for the rest of our lives or whatever we have to do." Darius pulled the bow across our laps. "I know you've been frustrated not being able to cast spells, and I know this isn't as good as a handful of lightning, but I thought it might be better than nothing."

_Much better than nothing_, I said, running my hand down the bow. _It's wonderful. _

"You like it?" He grinned.

_Yes. Thank you._ It wasn't a handful of lightning, but it was a weapon, something I could use now when everything else had been taken from me, and having it made me feel better. _Thank you, _I said again before I kissed him, hardly able to stop myself from smiling.

"What are you…? Oh, for heaven's sake," Caius grumbled, poking his head around the corner. "Look, just give me the vegetables, would you?"

Darius grinned and leaned away, picking up the bowl and handing it over.

"Thanks." Caius sounded wry. "I forgot I'd said I'd cook." He shot me a meaningful glance that Darius didn't see as he stepped back around the corner and out of sight.

_We should probably get back_, I said. _It's a lot warmer in there._

I started to push up to my knees but Darius put out a hand and stopped me. "Wait." He looked nervous. Hesitant. That made two of us. Darius glanced toward the doorway, voice low. "Look. I don't know how to even begin to say this. But… I don't know what's going to happen Loredas. You said you were in love with me, back in Cyrodiil," he said carefully, watching me until I nodded. "And I didn't say anything. Well." He laughed a little, despairing. "There _was_ the whole 'end of the world' thing to worry about just then."

_True_, I admitted, gripping the bow in my hands nervously.

He looked down at it for a moment before he pulled it away, setting it aside and taking my hands in his with wordless deliberation, running a thumb over my knuckles and looking serious. For some reason that only made me more nervous.

"I should have said it then," he told me, watching our fingers intertwine. "It's not like I didn't feel it. It was just… it was a surprise to hear you say it. But I love you. I think I've been half in love with you from the first time I saw you. And I wanted you to know."

My throat went tight, and as soon as he saw my expression he pulled me over into his lap, wrapping his arms around me tightly. So much for composure. I sniffled, burying my face in his shirt.

"Hey, now. It can't be that bad." I shook my head against him.

The frozen shock of earlier seemed to thaw as I realized it was going to be all right. I pulled back for a moment, searching his face. I loved him. And he loved me. Still, I had no idea how to tell him that I was going to have his child. I was searching for the right words when he smiled. "I didn't think we'd get this, you know? Not after the first time. And I know it hasn't been easy but I'm glad for it anyway. I don't want anything to change."

I froze again. Didn't want anything to _change?_

_Hell_.

I was reeling from that when he smiled again, looking pleased. "Come on. We should probably get back there. I got you some arrows, too, and a training book…"

I followed him back into the hall, but I hardly heard another word he said.

The next day passed much the same way the previous days had, if with fewer life-altering revelations. Fredas came and seemed to fly by. All of us were agitated about the next day, and all of us were pretending not to be except Caius, who had gone inscrutable, saying nothing and watching everyone. He disappeared sometime around noon, though no one saw him go, and returned without explanation late that evening.

Loredas finally came.

We all woke up early, too nervous to sleep, eating a quick breakfast and resigning ourselves to waiting the torturous hours until noon. In the absence of anything else to do, I took a bath, or as close as I could get to it in the stream. The water was bone-chillingly cold, but at least it woke me up and got me clean. I was halfway through rinsing soap out of my hair when Caius rounded the corner. "You haven't told him."

I'd been trying to work out a tangle and not paying attention to anything else, and would have yelped at the sound of his voice if I'd been capable. _Get out!_ I told him, pointing at the door and trying to cover myself with my other arm. _I am taking a bath_.

He raised an eyebrow, amused. "I can see that. Why haven't you told Darius?"

I glared at him.

"This is a conversation I'd rather your boys in there not overhear, which means we have it while they're occupied or not at all. Come on now, it's a simple enough question. Keeping the book from your brother, keeping the babe from Darius… you've become quite secretive lately." He cocked his head curiously.

_It's_ _a distraction_, I managed. _He has enough to deal with already. _

"I disagree. I think it would be additional incentive to fight. Let's be honest," he said, voice low. "He's still just a little bit confused about his feelings toward this impostor, for all he pretends not to be. If it comes down to it and he's got to kill her, do you think he'll do it? Especially if he thinks she's only a puppet in someone else's plan? I don't know that he will. His hesitation could cost us. Dearly."

Soap began stinging my eyes and I rinsed it out quickly, squinting.

"I think telling him would clarify his priorities," Caius continued once my head wasn't submerged anymore. "But if you're going to do it you're running out of time."

But two days had been plenty of time to second-guess myself. _I don't want to tell him_, I admitted, shivering. _He didn't react well when I told him about the book. I don't know for sure that he'll react well to this. And we can't afford for him not to react well, not today._

Caius mulled it over. "Perhaps you're right." He glanced over at me, sidelong. "Threw a fit over the book, did he?"

I nodded, feeling tired.

"Hmm. Well, everything in the world has a price. Even life, sometimes; he knows that. Don't let him pretend to be above it." He thought for a moment, then frowned at me. "Get out of there before you freeze. Here." Once I was out and wrapped in a blanket, he held out the bundle he'd had tucked under his arm. "I want it noted that I think this is an incredibly bad idea, but your High Priestess insisted she wanted you in priestess' garb for the big reveal."

I unfolded the bundle to find my temple dress. I'd left it here, and hadn't given it a second thought. It had been washed and folded. _Why do you think it's a bad idea?_

"It destroys any anonymity you might have had otherwise." He grimaced. "The plan is sound, I think. But with a large crowd it's easy to lose control. If the city turns against the priestesses and you're dressed as one things are going to get ugly, very quickly. Never underestimate the ability of people to lose all sense or reason when they're part of a mob."

I bit my lip, thinking about it while I slipped the temple dress over my head. It felt strange to wear it again.

"If all else fails, Plan B is still in effect," he said wryly as I wrung water out of my hair.

I stopped. _Plan B?_

"Run like hell and kill everything that moves."

I laughed a little. _Right_. _Because I'm not one of yours and you'll leave me behind._

Instead of agreeing he gave a small half-smile. "Do try not to make me have to choose, will you?" And before I could come up with anything to say to that, he turned and walked away.

-oOo-

It was time. Brennan and I sat at the table, watching Darius pace. "Here." Caius handed him a hood. "You walk in there bare-headed and her Hands will have you for lunch."

Darius took it, frowning. "Not likely." But he put it on anyway, drawing it up over his hair, the lines of it making him look a bit like a dark-eyed eagle.

"This isn't your fight, you know," Caius told Brennan, fastening a black bracer around his forearm. "You don't have to come."

My brother shifted at my side, clinking a little. There was chainmail under his priest robes. "Right against wrong is my fight."

Caius shook his head, working at a stubborn bit of lacing. "It's nowhere near as black and white as all that."

Brennan shrugged a little, clear-eyed and calm. "Still."

Darius tucked a small bottle of potion into his belt where it would be close at hand but unobtrusive, glancing over at Brennan. "If this doesn't go well, you get her out of Mournhold."

I frowned, but Brennan only asked, "Where do you want me to take her?"

Darius thought for a moment. "Out of Morrowind. Get back to the Imperial City, lay low." He looked at me. "I'll find you." My heart twisted miserably. I knew that look. He had worn it too often before walking into fights he didn't know if he'd survive.

"Catch," Caius said, tossing my cloak at me in a bundle. "It's cold up there."

I stood up to pull on the cloak, feeling the heavy cloth settle over my bare arms and reaching up to work the clasp with fingertips that felt numb and clumsy.

"Here. Let me." Brennan stood, fixing the clasp with patient hands and drawing my hood up around my face carefully. His eyes found mine and I saw the uneasiness in them, and I knew he wasn't as calm as he was pretending to be. He managed a smile. "The Nine watch and keep you," he told me, putting a hand on my shoulder.

_Azura bless you_, I replied, catching hold of his hand and squeezing.

"The gods must have been laughing the day you two were born," Caius said, his mouth sliding into a near-feral grin. "But it's not a funeral yet, kids. Let's go tell that counterfeit bitch what we think of her."


	39. Chapter 39

The Temple District of Mournhold was packed. Caius had wanted public, and he got it. Perhaps a thousand or more people of all races stood waiting, talking to each other and keeping an eye on the door of the temple, waiting for Almalexia to emerge. The sky above was overcast, thick purple-gray clouds hanging low but rainless and giving the city the look of twilight at noon.

The four of us moved through the crowd, trying to draw as little attention as possible, but even so we only got a third of the way to the temple steps before guards halted our progress. We weren't recognized, but in the effort to control the crowd and create aisles, we were herded back away from the temple doors. Surrounded by Dunmer and the odd Altmer and Imperial, I couldn't see anything but the heads and shoulders of the people immediately around me.

The humor of the situation wasn't lost on me, even as tense as I was. History was going to happen right in front of me and I was going to be too short to see it.

Darius was the tallest of us. "I see them," he said, as quietly as he could. "A few of them, anyway."

"Good." Caius' hands clenched and unclenched as he frowned at the crowd. With so many people around and the exits so heavily guarded, making a quick escape if we had to was unlikely. "Without them there's not much point in us being here."

I stood on tiptoe to look around and see if I could spot any of the other priestesses, but I still wasn't tall enough. Darius pointed them out, subtly. "There are two people in those blue cloaks over there," he said. "And another pair about thirty feet that way, and it looks like there's another pair up close to the temple steps."

I wondered which of the women from the temple had come. I hoped the High Priestess was here. Even on her own she might have been more than a match for the impostor, and I knew from personal experience how sharp her tongue could be. It would be satisfying to watch her take the impostor down a peg or ten.

Rather, it would have been satisfying to watch. That's not how it happened.

The temple doors opened and the crowd pressed closer, trying to get a better view. Almalexia emerged, gold draped in gold. If the sun had been out she would have shone, radiantly beautiful, but under the half-light of the clouds she seemed muted.

I could see her face, just barely, because of where she was standing on the steps of the temple. She'd looked so lovely before, in a sweet sort of way. Innocent, when she'd smiled at the crowd, flushing at their adoration. She didn't look innocent now. She was no less beautiful, but there was a hardness to her now that hadn't been there before, and she certainly wasn't smiling.

The crowd—which had to be well over a thousand strong by now—went quiet, waiting for her word.

It never came.

"Sisters!" rang out instead, a word of command, and scattered within the crowd the priestesses obeyed, pulling back the hoods of their charges and letting the crowd see for themselves: copy after copy of Almalexia, unmasked and exposed before the people of Mournhold, close enough to touch, to examine. Close enough that everyone could see the Almalexia on the steps mirrored many times over, the same hair, the same eyes, the same features. The same woman.

"People of Mournhold!" the voice rang out again, and it wasn't the High Priestess but I couldn't tell who it was, "You have been betrayed!"

I wished I could _see_.

The voice continued, shouting challenge. "The woman on your throne is an impostor, a puppet and pretender! Even now the hands that created her plot to steal Morrowind away from her people. Look for yourselves and see!"

There was a murmur from the crowd, a ripple of disquiet and uneasiness as the citizens took in the sight of the unhooded impostors. They'd never seen a crowd before, I realized. The impostors had been kept isolated at their temples and they'd probably never seen more than a handful of people at once in their lives. I didn't want to feel sorry for them, but as the throng of people began to buzz with anger and confusion, it was difficult not to.

The Almalexia on the temple steps was unmoved. "So," she began coldly, inclining her head as her voice carried through the district, "Mournhold has not seen enough treachery. Is that it?" The crowd went quiet again, listening. "Is it not enough that our Nerevarine proved to be an Imperial traitor? Is it not enough that he murdered your good and righteous King? Your beloved Queen Barenziah?"

Beside me, Darius tensed.

"Is it not _enough_," Almalexia snapped, getting louder, "that to maintain stability in the face of the invading daedra Vivec and Sotha Sil gave up their lives for you? For _you! _So that every citizen of Morrowind might be preserved from our enemies, might live and work in peace! No." She scanned the crowd, cool and haughty as any queen. "Apparently it is not. Because the Nerevarine's lapdogs have come before us, crying of plots and treachery when it is they who have been the architects of all our sorrows! They stand in my city and tell you to look for yourselves? _Look_, then!" she cried. "Look upon the pretenders they've assembled. See for yourselves that no matter how many impostors they bring before you there is only _one_ true goddess. I am Almalexia, and I will not be mocked!"

Inside my mouth the written lines of fire began to smolder, prickles of pain running across my tongue. When had she become such a good liar?

"Brennan," Darius said, voice low, "be ready."

But the impostor on the temple steps was not the only one in the crowd that day who believed herself to be a goddess. There was a rustle from somewhere to my left, an eddy of disturbance, before another woman's voice shouted, "I am Almalexia!"

"No!" From elsewhere in the crowd I could hear it, panicked and angry. "I am Almalexia!"

"I am!" a child's voice came, high and furious. "_I_ am!"

And then it was everywhere, as each of the copies shouted at each other and to the crowd: demanding belief, protesting vainly in sharp, outraged voices that they were each the one and only real Almalexia, oblivious to the guards that were even now beginning to move toward them with weapons readied.

The impostor on the temple steps watched, pitiless as death. "Fools. All of you, fools and traitors! Today all Morrowind will know that I am the one true goddess!"

I heard Caius swear as though from very far away, saw Darius' hand fall to his sword. This was going to end very, very badly.

_Oh, Azura, _I thought, from nothing more than reflex. And then something that I had never felt in all my time as a priestess: the lightest of touches in the back of my mind, the silver thread I'd thought had left me, alive and unfurling and quivering with star-song. I heard a voice like water, sweeter and more beautiful than anything in the mortal world: **_Close your eyes and keep them closed._**

I obeyed immediately, unthinking. The noise and crush of the crowd fell away and all I knew was the whisper of waterfalls, the scent of roses at twilight as everything in me yearned toward the source of the voice.

**_Little priestess,_** Azura said as the thread in my mind hummed with the contact. **_You stood on the steps of this temple before and declared yourself bound to obey._** I had the sense of something moving closer but I didn't dare open my eyes. **_Are you still?_**

Overwhelmed with beauty and more than a little fear, I didn't understand at first. _Still? _Bound, I realized after a moment. Was I still bound to obey. I nodded helplessly, all of the doubt and anger I'd directed at Her flying away like dust before a storm.

**_Good. You have doubted Me. You have believed that I had abandoned you. It was never so._**

I didn't bother to wipe away the tears that streaked down my cheeks.

**_Had you been sheltered you would not have been tested. Untested, you would not have been tempered. Untempered, you would have shattered like glass at the task I set before you now. I do not require unquestioning faith. _**The voice had gone thoughtful_. **All I require from you is your obedience. Do I have it?**_

I nodded quickly, yes, my heart close to bursting.

**_The tools you need you have already been given._** At the words, the lines of fire in my mouth flared, ready and waiting. **_But such things were too dangerous to be given without precaution. I took your voice so you might not harm yourself on what you could not understand._**

I traced the letters with my tongue, feeling the unfamiliar syllables collect themselves into words.

**_They call you the accuser of gods,_** Azura continued, sounding amused. **_After today, they will call you something more. Go. Use what I have given you. Speak truth so that all of Morrowind will understand. Go unaided, unarmed, unaccompanied. The Nerevarine knows what is needful; go forth and prepare his place. And let there be no doubt today who the real goddess is in Morrowind. _**

**_Open your eyes._**

I did. Nothing had changed. The guards were still moving toward the impostors, Almalexia still stood furious on the temple steps. I didn't know if any time had passed.

Darius was looking at me, sorrow and surprise in his face. "It's Her, isn't it? I didn't catch it all, but…"

I nodded, the inside of my mouth burning, the words shifting restlessly as I pulled my bow and quiver off my back and handed them to him. _Hold these for me?_

Unaided, unarmed, unaccompanied. No enchantments, no weapons, no companions. Just me.

I toed off my shoes, kicking the little knife that had been tucked by my ankle off onto the street and taking in a breath of surprise at the cold of the stone against my bare feet, and tapped Caius' shoulder. He glanced down at me quickly before turning back to watching the crowd, tightly strung with the effort of resisting his instincts to disappear.

_Caius_, I said, grabbing hold of his shirt and pulling him around to look at me. _I need you._

He frowned. "What?"

The crowd around us shifted, the mass of bodies pushing us forward. _Speak for me_, I pleaded when we were steady again.

He glanced around at the people around us. "Speak for you?"

_Yes_.

He hesitated. "_Now?_ What do you want me to say?"

I reached up to the back of my neck. _Tell her to prove it._

"Tell… _her?_" He glanced at the Almalexia on the temple steps before looking back at me with a frown. "You're serious."

I nodded, fumbling with the clasp of my necklace.

"You're going to get us all _killed_," he protested in a furious whisper.

_I'm not. This is why I'm here_, I insisted. _Caius. Trust me_. The necklace slipped from my throat, the enchantment giving a lurch as it fell away and I tucked it into his hand. _Please_.

He stared down at the star in his fingers for a moment, torn, before he decided, raising his gaze to Almalexia and shouting out in a voice like the crack of a whip, _"Prove it!"_

Almalexia had heard. The whole district had heard. The guards stopped in their tracks.

Almalexia scanned the crowd for the source of the voice. "What?"

Caius took a deep breath before shouting again. "If you're really a goddess, prove it!"

Her eyes had found him and her Hands were on their way, weapons readied and coming for Caius. "And how, Imperial, do you suggest that I do _that_?" she demanded, her voice dripping with malice.

"That's a damned good question," he muttered, looking back down at me. "What now?"

It clicked, and I knew. The old histories, how they fit together. What was wanted of me. I took a deep breath of the cold air, trying to stay calm. _Tell her she has to fight a Daedra Lord._

"She…?" Caius broke off, swearing viciously. "You're _serious_."

_Yes_.

Behind me, I heard Brennan begin to pray.

Caius was furious. "How does this plan not get us all killed?"

_Please_, I said_. Trust me_.

I could have chosen my words better, because Caius wasn't one for unquestioning faith either. There was a heartbeat's space of doubt, of the sense that I was asking far too much of him before resolve settled over him and he faced Almalexia and her coming Hands again. "She says you have to fight a Daedra Lord."

Caius hadn't shouted this time, but the district had gone so quiet that everyone had heard him. Almalexia inclined her head, her eyes narrowed. "She?"

I pushed my hood back, away from my face and off my hair.

She saw me. I didn't know if she would, but she recognized me, and for the second time in my life I saw her go ashen with surprise. This time it didn't last long. "Kill her. _Now_," she demanded, color rising in her cheeks. Her Hands moved immediately to obey.

_Unaided, unarmed, unaccompanied. _The fiery words in my mouth began to hum.

The Hands were coming, the colors in their armor shifting as they made their way forward, pushing through the crowd with their weapons readied.

It was time. The first word fell from my mouth with the sliding ring of silver scraping on stone—a sound never meant to be spoken by a human mouth—and around me the air shuddered, wavering, the smell of perfume filling the air for a moment as the daedric magicka unfurled and figures shivered into view.

Winged Twilights, dozens of them, everywhere. Blocking the gates, surrounding the guards, filling in the spaces in the crowd. There was a collective cry of fear from the citizens as they recognized daedra in their midst, as hundreds of eyes took in the sight of the Twilights, clawed and hook-tailed and fierce.

But not attacking. They stood in ranks around the Hands, wings unfurled and claws at the ready, and the signal was clear: _don't move_.

They blocked the city gates, unruffled by the cries of the frightened people in the crowd trying to get away. Everyone in the district would witness this, whether they wanted to or not.

A double rank of Twilights had appeared before me in a long line from where I stood to the temple steps, pushing the citizens aside. At a gesture from one of them—who seemed grander than the others, a silver torc around her neck and an air of command in her bearing—they parted, pressing the crowd back and forming a pathway of open space, lined on each side by purple-gray Twilights standing wingtip-to-wingtip.

A pathway that led from me to Almalexia, with nothing and no one between us.

I don't suppose what was expected of me could have gotten much clearer than that.

The Twilight with the torc held a hand up, commanding attention, and the others snapped to obey. She drew the eye of everyone in the district, and when she was satisfied of the readiness of her underlings she turned to me, red eyes lambent and clear. "At your word, emissary."

My word... Syllables leapt forward, surging toward the front of my mouth as the sound of wingbeats thundered in my ears, pressing on the edges of my mind.

I gave a nod in respect, a gesture she returned before turning her eyes to Almalexia.

Almalexia. Her Hands scattered and bound in place by the daedra, she stood alone at the top of the temple stairs, uncertain but unmoving.

_Unaided, unarmed, unaccompanied. Let there be no doubt. _The path was open. I began walking, hardly aware of the cold, my steps taking me between the rows of Twilights. I pulled my cloak off and let it fall to the street behind me, moving as though in a dream, not stopping when I unbuckled my belt with its twin daggers and let them drop to the ground with a clink.

A lone priestess, barefoot, silenced, unarmed, and standing before Almalexia with empty hands. I had never been more vulnerable.

The crowd was silent.

Words flared across the inside of my lips and pushed out, groaning like a tree in a heavy wind. For a wild moment I didn't know what had happened, and then I saw them: branches pushing up out of the ground around the walls of the temple, growing tremendously fast and twining up and around the walls, leaves unfolding and thorns scraping into the stone. I heard the collective gasp as the entire district saw, as buds began to open and cover the temple in a shower of black rose petals, as the spicy-sweet fragrance was carried on the wind to every corner of the district.

I walked on.

At the bottom of the temple steps I stopped, looking up at the impostor and feeling nothing I'd expected to feel. I'd wanted to kill her. I'd daydreamed about it more times than I could count. But she was a puppet, an angry, vengeful puppet, and nothing more.

She drew herself up, pulling her golden robe closer, and said quietly, "You."

I nodded, once. I didn't hate her. But I was only the messenger, bound to obey, and there couldn't be any doubt.

I had one word left. It leapt forth in a burst of heat, swirling with star-song and shadow as I was enveloped in light, an illusion too silver and too bright to look at for a moment before it fell away. I thought that was all for a moment before the second part of it hit, washing over me in a roaring wave of power, and the part of me that was Alora and small and mortal was forced away in favor of something vast and terrifyingly _present._

Below me, Almalexia looked pale.

Below me? There wasn't time to think about it, because more words were pouring out of my mouth in a voice not my own, the words loud and clear enough for everyone in the city to hear:

"Poor, small thing. You were never meant to be. The hands of liars have placed you here, and abandoned you to your fate. Almalexia is gone, dead and mourned with the rest of the Tribunal. Their time has passed. Your time never was. Deceived and deceiver, step down. Surrender and submit to truth. Or if you wish, we may rise to battle and you may try to prove yourself before the eyes of my people. The first blow will be yours. But if you declare me your enemy there will be no mercy for you, not here, and not in the beyond. The choice is yours."

The rush of unfamiliar power was like standing in a howling wind, flickering images flying before and around me, and though I heard the words clearly I could hardly see. I could feel the crowd instead, every breath and tremble, every heartbeat and sigh I felt like the moving of the world and this was just the smallest part of it, I knew, just enough truth to give the illusion some weight.

I almost missed it, I was so overwhelmed with the color of the air and the humming of the fragile mortal lives below.

The impostor Almalexia, who had never been taught to fight, who had always been kept reined in and docile, swayed, looking up at me with horror. And then she did something no warrior goddess would have done, certainly not one who had defeated Mehrunes Dagon, not one who had murdered Nerevar and stolen the Heart's power for herself, not one who had ruled for thousands of years unopposed.

She fainted, crumpling in a heap on the temple steps.

And the city went mad.


	40. Chapter 40

Several things happened very quickly, though I was only dimly aware of them. First, the spell that had suspended me above the crowd ran its course, and in another burst of that swirling silver-shadow light I fell back to the ground, slowly, landing on my hands and knees and shaking violently because the power I'd been lent hadn't left me and everything in the world was painfully acute.

Next, the winged twilights disappeared. Immediately, the citizens of Mournhold went into a frenzy, roaring in confusion and fear, pressing at the guards to open the gates and let them out but crowding too close for the gates to be opened, which only made the throng angrier.

Sometime during all that Darius had sprinted to the temple steps, because I felt hands on me, pulling me up off the cold stone of the stairs and holding me upright because my knees weren't working. Even though my eyes were tightly closed colors blurred around me as though I were being mage-sent. I could feel the world turning over, feel the spiral dance of the moons as Nirn hurtled through the dark. It was terrifying and beautiful and I wasn't supposed to feel it but I did and I wished it would stop.

And it was Darius with his arm around me holding me up, speaking to the crowd, and I knew it was him even though I couldn't hear his voice properly. It sounded like two voices, rising and falling and intertwining into something new and strange. I could feel the flow of power from his ring as he stood on the steps of the temple and spoke to the people of Mournhold, explaining, persuading. It was a clever trick, I thought, wasn't it? To give him birth as an Imperial so he would know how to command. I wished I could hear what he was saying because he sounded like a leader then, a general, and the citizens obeyed, falling quiet to listen with tears in the eyes of some, grief on the faces of others, fury in the hearts of many.

Still, here and there in the crowd were flickers of hope, blooming like bright flowers in a sea of tears, and when Darius ordered them to go home they left the district in peace.

I opened my eyes and saw more than I ever had or ever would again. The feeling of standing in a howling wind persisted, scraps of things flying before my eyes, of things that had been and were and would be. Every individual thing in the world seemed to cry out for my attention: a tree branch that had been the home of birds for almost a hundred years, the guard at the gate who didn't know how to tell his wife he was leaving her, a cloud with water that had carried over from Akavir, that would rain on the Khajiit of Elsweyr.

The ordinary-looking step where my daughter would sit someday and read. I wanted to cry but I was afraid of what would happen if I did.

And then I was being walked, slow and careful, into the temple. I looked at Darius and saw him more completely than I'd ever seen him, the face he'd worn thousands of years before I was born, the little boy he'd been sleeping in haystacks outside the Imperial City, the places the two people had merged.

I hadn't really understood, before then.

Brennan hurt to look at, for all he was my brother, because he shone in a great pillar of light. Even as he leaned down to check my eyes because I couldn't seem to keep them focused I couldn't look at him directly because he was too bright. We'd laid nose-to-nose in the womb and had been too close ever since to see each other clearly, but I saw him then with light pouring off him in a halo and I put out a hand to touch it, laughing. It only made him look stricken.

_I'm sorry_, I would have said, but I could barely contain it all, and it wasn't going away and it hurt.

"Snap out of it." Caius slapped my cheeks, lightly, looking worried and angry and I wanted to tell him it was all right but I got distracted because there was no shifting or pillar of light or anything for Caius. He was shadowed and far-off as the moons, fire petals and lucky coins and the father of lions though he didn't even know it yet and it made me laugh again to think that I would know something before Caius did.

And then all at once the power retreated in a rush that left me empty and shaking, small and mortal and ordinary and in so much pain I was afraid my head was going to split open. "_Fetching hell_," I gritted out, holding onto my temples so my head wouldn't fly apart, and it took a second before I realized I had my voice back.

Darius held onto me tightly. "You're all right?"

I nodded, taking in deep gulps of air.

"Wish I'd known you could summon those things," Caius said, grinning fiercely and standing over the impostor as if he wished she'd try to make a run for it so he'd have another excuse to kill her. "It would have come in handy, before."

"I didn't summon them," I protested. "Not really. I've never managed to summon anything before in my life."

Brennan sounded puzzled. "But you summoned Azura."

I gaped up at him. "No, I didn't."

He and Caius glanced at each other. "It looked like you did," Brennan said slowly.

"Anyone in Mournhold would probably swear to it right now," Caius added.

I rubbed my face, trying to think. "I didn't. It was an illusion, with just enough power behind it to make it convincing. A fake Daedra to take down a fake goddess. If I'd really tried to summon Her like that, I wouldn't have survived it." As it was, it felt like a near thing.

Caius pulled one of his daggers free, holding out the hilt to me. "We can argue the technicalities later but for now, it's done. It's your victory, today. Finish her off so we can call it a day and get the hell out of here."

"No. You can't!" Brennan snatched the dagger away in a flash of steel, aghast. Caius looked stormy and blood dripped from his fingers where he'd been cut, but Brennan barreled on, horrified. "You said yourself that the impostors were just puppets in this. You can't kill them for what they were forced to do, Alora, it's _monstrous_."

I hesitated for a moment but didn't get the chance to answer because the temple doors burst open with a bang and a Bosmer ran inside in a streak of blond hair, squealing delight all the way before she jumped on me, flinging her arms around my neck and grinning ear-to-ear.

"Fena, I can't breathe," I managed, trying to hug her back and at the same time trying to pry her off me so I could get air.

"You did it! You actually did it!" she crowed. "And you didn't die!"

"Not yet," I croaked, still trying to breathe.

"Fena, perhaps we could restrain ourselves for a few more moments?" The High Priestess swept in, regal and amused.

Fena let go, stepping back and beaming and not at all chagrined. "Right. Restraint." Her smile died when she caught sight of the impostor sitting against the wall and looking as though she'd rather be anywhere else in the world. "Why aren't you dead yet?"

"That's what I'd like to know," Caius grumbled.

"You can't just kill her," Brennan insisted.

Fena frowned. "Of course you can. It's easy, just stab stab until she stops screaming." She made little jabbing motions to demonstrate before she turned to look at me. "Who is this?" she demanded, gesturing at Brennan.

"My brother," I answered, frowning and rubbing my temples because all the chatter was making it hard to think. I looked up at Darius. "What do you think?"

He grimaced, looking over at the impostor, who looked away from him. "I think I'm not as unbiased as I need to be," he admitted. I nodded, thinking it over. "Still," he continued, sounding reluctant. "She might not deserve to die. But she might be too dangerous to be left alive."

Caius laughed humorlessly. "Exactly. Can we get on with it, please?"

"We have to get to Ald'ruhn," I mused. "We have to strike while we've still got the element of surprise on our side before they have the chance to move or regroup. Don't we?" I asked Caius, second-guessing myself.

"_Yes_," he insisted.

Brennan looked miserable. "Alora—"

"There _is_ another way," the High Priestess said mildly. "If anyone would care to hear it."

Everyone in the room turned to her. "Of course," I said after a moment, when everyone else was quiet.

She clasped her hands in front of her, sparing a glance at the temple door as the other priestesses began to file in, escorting Almalexias in various stages of distress. "It's true that these women never asked to be used as they were. It is also true, however, that as long as they are alive they remain a threat; tools to be used in the hands of zealots or worse. I can offer them sanctuary at the temple, under two conditions." She stopped, looking at me. "I'm told that you have the knowledge to make a person forget things. But this is a mystery to me. Can you explain it?"

No, I thought, baffled until I remembered: my mother's only contribution to the Book, a poison of forgetting. "Yes," I began slowly. "It's a potion."

Caius frowned. "We don't have time for you to be fiddling with alchemy."

The High Priestess held up a hand. "We have the means to make a potion ourselves if you can provide instructions. Those impostors who choose to take the potion and forget the lies with which they've been indoctrinated will be sheltered at the temple of Azura for as long as they wish, provided they also take vows of service. Those who choose otherwise…" She glanced at the women, who cowered. "I doubt they will find much mercy from the people of Morrowind."

It was a good compromise, I thought. Even Caius didn't protest. "I'll need to go get… the recipe," I said, not wanting to mention the Book in front of Brennan. "As quickly as I can do that we can go."

"Then let's get to it," said Caius.

Brennan didn't go with us; he was too suspicious that someone would try to murder the Almalexias while he was gone and he refused to leave, and Darius stayed to talk to the captain of the guard.

It was just Caius that ran with me down the sewers and tunnels of Old Mournhold, back to the hall to fetch my heirloom book of poisons. "This is getting to be too familiar," he grumbled. "No one should have to be this well acquainted with the backside of a city."

"Almost done," I assured him, casting another light spell, stronger than it needed to be. It was so good to be able to cast again. I felt like a bird returned to the air. "And then with any luck we'll never have to crawl through a sewer again."

"_That_ would be nice." He glanced over at me. "How are you, anyway?"

"Fine." We ran around a corner, and I had to check myself because it was unexpectedly slippery. "It's nice to be able to talk." I couldn't stop from grinning.

"I mean the babe. Everything still all right?"

"Oh." I flushed. "Yes, she's fine."

"She?"

"I saw things, earlier," I tried to explain. "So… yes. She."

We moved quickly when we came to the hall. I copied my mother's recipe onto a spare sheet of paper and blew on the ink to dry it before I changed into clothes better suited for travel.

Caius glanced over when I was done, handing me the flask. "Ready?"

I looked around the little hall, feeling absurdly sentimental. Caius noticed. "Tell me you're not actually going to miss this place."

"Maybe a little," I admitted. "It's been…" I grasped for words, but nothing seemed to fit. An adventure, maybe. It had been an adventure.

"Here." He pulled something from his pocket. "You should have this back." The little pendant swung, catching the light as he held it up before he moved my hair aside and fastened the chain in place. And it was the same, just the same as it had been months before when I'd first felt it: the hum of the little star, the brush of his fingertips, the shiver and tug of something electric.

Caius was watching me, looking thoughtful. "Still?"

I stepped away, unable to stop myself laughing. Or flushing. "Yes."

"Good." I shot him an annoyed look but it only made him smile. "Let's get back."

The inside of the temple was getting full. There were guards, copies of Almalexia, priestesses of Azura, priests and caretakers of Almalexia's temple who'd come in after they were assured bloodshed wasn't the order of the day. I commandeered a table, leaning over it and discussing the potion with Redena, the priestess who'd be making it. I tapped a finger on the page. "The ruby's going to have to be ground very, very finely for it to work, I think."

She looked torn between amusement and pique. "I'm a far better alchemist than you are. I know what I'm doing."

I shook my head. "It's not that. But it's my…" I trailed off, but Brennan wasn't listening. "I know the woman who created the potion," I amended. "And she always pulverizes her gemstones until they're incredibly fine."

Redena nodded. "I'll keep it in mind."

I bit the inside of my mouth, thinking. "How many of the impostors will need potion?"

"All of them."

I looked up in surprise.

"They've all agreed to forget rather than take their chances elsewhere," she clarified.

Well that… that was fantastic, I thought. No one would have to die, and no one would be out for my blood. The main impostor hadn't moved, still sitting against the wall and watching the proceedings quietly. Her face had gone a little ashen with defeat, perhaps, her shoulders slumped, but when she caught me looking at her she returned my gaze without anger.

"Pardon me," a Dunmer I hadn't seen before said politely. "You'd be the one they're calling the Emissary?"

I frowned. "The what?"

"The emissary," Caius repeated, making his way over. "Yes, she is." He caught my expression and smirked. "It means 'messenger.'"

"I know what it _means_," I began.

The Dunmer cut me off. "Excellent."

And he was so fast I didn't even see him throw the dart until it was already lodged in the neck of the main impostor, until the veins under her golden skin bulged black with poison and she choked helplessly for air in a blind panic, clawing at her own throat and convulsing in agony. I began to move on instinct, to rush over to her, but the Dunmer's hand shot out and caught my arm, holding me in place. "There is no antidote. Watch."

I did, frozen. She tried to scream and couldn't, and tried to rise but toppled over instead, writhing and kicking out uselessly. Darius—as though he hadn't been through enough already—Darius was the only one who could move, and he rushed over and knelt at her side and I couldn't see it but there was the crack of snapping bone.

She went limp.

The guard captain drew his sword, pointing it at the assassin with fury darkening his expression. The Dunmer stood calmly, unafraid, speaking before any of the guards could. "Captain. I have the writ of execution issued by the Morag Tong for the impostor Almalexia." He released my arm and handed over the scroll.

The captain jerked it from his hands, scowling.

"And I have a message for you," the Dunmer continued, turning to me.

My throat had gone dry. "Oh?"

"Some things Morrowind decides for herself." He inclined his head at the guards. "Captain." Another look at me, another formal nod. "Emissary." And he left the temple, untouched.

The temple was silent for a long moment. Finally the youngest impostor began to cry, small, muffled hiccupping sobs echoing through the room. The sound seemed to break something and everyone could breathe again. Brennan moved to soothe the little girl, the priestesses stood guard over the remaining impostors, wary and shaken, and the Tribunal priests attended to the dead body on the floor.

Darius straightened and walked over stiffly, wiping his hands on his pants. When he looked at me his eyes were flat and haunted. "Can we get the hell out of here?"

I glanced at Redena, who nodded.

"I'll get the supplies," Caius said. "Meet us out on the temple steps in a minute; it's too crowded in here."

Outside, Darius sat down heavily on the stairs, his elbows on his knees as he ran his hands messily through his hair, blowing out a ragged breath.

I sat beside him and put an arm around his shoulders. "I'm so sorry."

He laughed humorlessly, looking at the steps. "For what?"

"You shouldn't have had to do that."

He shook his head as though he could shake the whole thing off his skin. "Better to put her out of her misery than let her suffer," he mumbled. "That was a hell of a way to die."

"I know."

He was quiet for a minute before he shifted, pushing to sit up a step higher and settling a leg on either side of my hips, wrapping around me like a cloak. "So. What was it like?"

"What was what like?"

He made a thoughtful noise. "You and I know it was an illusion, even if no one else would believe it. But there was something else there, too, some little bit of Her power. Wasn't there?"

"Yes." I groped for words, trying to figure out how to explain something completely outside mortal experience. Or at least, my mortal experience. "It was… terrifying," I admitted. "Beautiful, too, more than anything I've ever known."

He seemed to be considering something. "But you didn't hold onto it. You didn't even try."

"It hurt." I laughed a little, remembering. "It was incredible, but it hurt. And it wasn't mine, anyway."

His arms tightened around my shoulders and I could hear the sadness in his voice, the echoes of long-held pains. "I love you."

I was bewildered for a moment before I understood. Power that I had gotten a taste of, that I had let go of. I smiled a little. "I love you, too."

"Took you damned long enough," Caius said, coming out of the temple with Brennan in tow. "Let's get out of here. A little ways outside the city, if you can, not right in the thick of things," he told Brennan. "Let's go ruin their day and find out what they're hiding up there."

Brennan nodded, thinking for a moment before he cast his spell and colors began to shift around me as the world moved.


	41. Chapter 41

For the second time in less than a year, Ald'ruhn was under attack.

Brennan managed to get us within about a hundred feet of the city, though it was hard to tell at first because of the furious ash storm that howled around us. The wind stung our faces as ash and dust blew in red billows that made us cough for a minute before we could adjust.

"They're being attacked!" Darius shouted at Caius, peering around a boulder at the city.

I could barely hear him over the wind. "Who's doing it?"

"I don't know!"

I could see figures going back and forth near the entrance to the great crab shell, destruction spells flung from every figure as a battle raged on. Who exactly the combatants were, I had no idea. What they were guarding—or trying to destroy—I had no idea. But now that I had my spells back… "I can get in there," I told Caius. "They won't see me."

He squinted against the fine blowing ash, his eyes streaming. "I don't like it."

"I can do this," I insisted. "I did it at Necrom."

He came to a decision, nodding in the direction of Skar. "Go."

I murmured an invisibility spell and it was as easy as a fish slipping into water. I darted forward, avoiding the warring Dunmer and the wicked spells they cast, the atronachs and Golden Saints being summoned in swirls of light to aid in the struggle.

They were so focused on their battle they didn't notice me slip through the door.

Inside Skar everything seemed unnaturally quiet. The howling wind outside was muffled to a dull roar in here, and the bridges barely creaked as I made my way over them. The city's unique architecture, the letter had said. Something about it letting them keep the subjects separate. They were likely in the manors.

I headed toward the closest one and ducked inside, quick with my spells to keep me out of sight as I rushed past guards standing tense and ready. They were expecting battlemages on the attack, not a single, invisible intruder.

Still, a hurried search turned up nothing. The manors weren't built for efficiency, they were built for showing off wealth and power, and so the hallways were long and wide with few places to hide and catch my breath or regain my bearings. There were rooms and rooms full of nothing, and more rooms with mer inside, Dunmer in dark robes who didn't notice my presence but argued with one another in low voices.

I pressed on, sipping from the flask and creeping down the halls. I saw it, finally—a door barred from the outside, flanked by a pair of guards—and I almost hissed in frustration. I couldn't sneak past them to get the door open and had no one to aid me, no poison to paralyze them. And I didn't know how to incapacitate instead of kill.

I let my invisibility drop and sent a strong arc of lightning into the guards, watching as they fell shuddering to the ground and then fell still. The bar came free with a quiet scrape and I pushed open the door, frowning in confusion at the sight of the man inside.

It was an Imperial. A young Imperial, no less, with bright blue eyes. I don't know what I'd been expecting, but he wasn't it. "Hello," he said, his expression curious. "Who are you?"

We didn't have time for introductions. "We have to get out of here," I told him. "You've got to come with me."

"Why?"

"We're in danger." I peeked out the door, but no one was coming. "The city's under attack. I'm here to get you out."

He digested that a moment, looking confused. "Why?"

I shook my head. "No time. I'll make you invisible, all right? Hold my hand and we'll go, but don't say a word."

"Are you a Breton?" he asked. "I've read about them but I've never seen one before. You're supposed to be very good with magicka."

"I…" The wide-eyed, friendly curiosity was baffling. "I'm pretty good. But I can't keep you invisible if you talk. Be quiet until I say it's safe. Understand?"

He nodded affirmation, brown hair falling around his face. I took his hand before I cast my spells and began to move, winding back through the hallways I'd come down and checking constantly to make sure we were out of sight.

"Where are we going?" he asked in a stage whisper, halfway down a hall.

A guard had seen us as the spell broke, and I could have cursed. I bolted for a nearby room and shoved him in it, yanking on his hair to get him out of danger when he poked his head back out into the hall to get a better view. When the guard rushed close enough I let out another lightning spell, feeling it crackle as it flew from my palm and coursed over the guard's armor, trapping him in an electrified metal tomb.

"You _can't talk_," I snapped at the Imperial. "Even a little. It breaks my spells."

He looked abashed. "Sorry. I thought if I whispered—"

"No," I insisted. "Not at all. Do you understand?"

"Yes." He rubbed his scalp, looking pained. "That really hurt."

"It's going to hurt a lot more if they kill us."

His blue eyes went wide. "Who's trying to kill us?"

"I don't know," I admitted, sharp with frustration. "I'm trying to find out. We've got to get out of here. Can you stay quiet?"

He nodded quickly and went along with me well enough after that, holding my hand and staying silent. It wasn't long before we made it out of the manor, across the bridge and out into the ash storm.

He didn't know it was coming, though, and I hadn't thought to tell him. He coughed and sputtered as ash went up his nose and down his throat, and I tackled him to push him behind a boulder and out of sight of the still-fighting Dunmer as my spell broke and we became visible again.

"Sorry!" he tried to say, choking.

I shook my head and grabbed his hand again, pulling him to his feet and down the path.

Caius and Darius and Brennan were gone. I bit out a curse, looking around for any trace of them before I caught sight of Brennan, standing at the edge of a boulder some distance away and motioning me closer.

They'd taken shelter in one of the houses outside the city proper, one of the few things around that still had walls and a door after the daedra had attacked. It hadn't been uninhabited, if the pair of newly-dead corpses against the wall was any indication. We got inside and got the door shut behind us, Caius and Darius coming close as Brennan and I blinked ash out of our eyelashes with the ease of habit. The Imperial rubbed at his eyes.

"Stop it," I told him automatically, pulling his hands away. "You're only going to make it worse."

Caius' expression darkened when he saw the young man's face and he let fly most vicious string of curses I'd ever heard. I was too surprised to react, and before I could get my bearings again he rounded on me, flushed with fury. "Is he the only one?"

"I don't know," I admitted, taken aback. "He was the only one I found."

"Get back there," he ordered, livid. "_Now_. Darius, Brennan, go. Find out if there are more and get them _back_ here."

I wavered, baffled in the face of his temper. "Why? Who is he?"

"Go!"

We scuttled out the door and ran back into Skar. The effort of keeping all three of us invisible was draining and I couldn't tell if the wave of nausea that hit me was from the amount of potion I'd drank or from something else. "I'll take Serethi," Brennan said once we were in out of the howling wind. "Where was he?"

"Venim." I gritted my teeth against the feeling that I was going to be sick. "He was in Venim."

Darius looked confused. "I don't know which one is which. Just point me where I need to go."

"Redoran," I answered immediately, pointing. "Go that way through the triple doors, take the Redoran council hall. I'll get Llethri and Arobar. How good are you with that axe?" I asked Brennan.

"Pretty good, now," he said quickly. "Don't worry."

I nodded. "Look for doors that are barred from the outside."

We went our separate ways. Venim had been bigger than Llethri, but at least I'd been familiar with the layout. I wasn't half as cautious now as I had been before, staying invisible but hardly bothering to sneak at all as I rushed down the empty halls. In the depths of the manor I found another door, but though it had once been barred from the outside it stood open.

Behind it was a young Imperial, lying dead in a dark pool of blood.

Too late.

I rushed back out of the manor as fast as I could and slipped into Arobar like a shadow. I could hear a fight somewhere close and pushed harder, straining between the twin efforts of going quickly and staying unseen. I flew down the hall, dodging robed Dunmer, trusting my spells to keep me hidden.

I skidded around a corner, barely keeping myself from crashing into a low table by the wall, and I'd only just caught my balance again when I looked up into the room before me just in time to see yet another blue-eyed young Imperial, this one just a half-grown boy, reedy and terrified and being led out by the scruff of his neck.

He almost didn't see the shortsword until it was thrust deep in his belly and his scream came out a frothy gurgle, blood at his lips and eyes wide. Something in my mind screamed with him, pain and fury and a roaring heartache, and it was too much to bear. I launched myself forward, sprinting toward him and snatching him away, pushing magicka into him to make him disappear from sight as we stumbled out of the room.

_Idiot, idiot, _my mind jangled. _You're going to be killed._

A deep gulp from the flask and I had enough. I poured everything I had into a spell: lightning, but like I'd never managed to call before, thick ropes of energy that arced from person to person until all of them were dead, smoking on the floor with the haze of ozone and burned flesh hanging thick in the air.

The young Imperial shook with pain, his hands slick with blood and clasped around the sword in his body. Seven _hells_, I thought, as realization kicked in. If arrows didn't come out on their own, swords probably didn't either. "I'm going to have to pull it," I told him, cupping his clammy cheek in one hand. "Stay with me, all right?"

His eyes rolled back in his head and he started to slump over.

I braced a hand on his shoulder, took hold of the hilt of the shortsword and pulled, one clean jerk that was as quick as I could make it, kneeling immediately as he fell to the ground trying to scream. I pushed up his shirt for a look at the wound and it was worse than anything I'd ever seen. I sent healing spells into his skin, one after another and as strong as I could make them. The skin sealed just when I'd begun to believe it wouldn't, but there was still damage inside, and I wasn't as good a healer as I needed to be.

I needed Brennan.

But the flask was almost empty, I didn't dare leave him there while I went after my brother, and there was no way he could walk. If he'd been much older or any heavier I couldn't have carried him, but I managed to hoist him over my shoulder, praying with every step that he would survive and that my shoulder in his belly wouldn't kill him. I drank down the last of the potion before I started back toward the door, slowly because the boy was so heavy. I could have cried in frustration at how much effort it took just to move forward at a walk.

I don't know what I'd have done if there had been anyone to fight between me and the door. But Brennan and Darius were already out, another Imperial staying warily close to Darius with a dripping cut across his face.

Darius saw me and swore, sheathing his sword and taking the limp boy off my hands. "Is that it?"

"All I could find," I gasped, tears streaming from my eyes though I couldn't remember when I'd started crying. "You?"

"Yeah." He blinked sweat from his eyes. "Any idea what the hell is going _on?_"

"No." I tried to stay calm, but it was a losing battle. "There's still Ramoran."

"That one? I checked it," he said quickly. "He was already dead."

"Then let's get out of here. He needs healed, he's dying."

Brennan's knuckles around his axe were white. "Here?"

"At the house," Darius said, moving toward the door. "It's not safe here and it'll only be a minute. Can you keep us out of sight until we get back to Caius?"

I nodded, exhausted and sick.

Out we went into the ash storm again. I strained to maintain the invisibility spells, but there were five of us, now. I gritted my teeth as we walked, holding onto the last flickering scraps of magicka with a desperate sort of focus, but wasn't enough. Thirty feet from the house the spells gave out, and we took the last little way as fast as we could go in a rush to get out of sight.

"It's you again!" The first of the Imperials beamed brightly when we stumbled in, coughing ashes and covered in blood. "What happened?"

"Is this all of them?" Caius took in the sight of the two newcomers as Darius stretched the boy gently onto the ground, Brennan at his side.

"Yes," Darius answered. "There were more but they were dead before we could get there. Is this who I think it is?"

Caius grimaced and said nothing. Brennan's spells began to weave around the injured boy, trails of healing magicka knitting together his mangled insides.

"Who do you think it is?" I asked hoarsely, ashes still thick in my throat.

Darius and Caius glanced at each other before Caius gave a ragged, humorless laugh. "Why settle for Morrowind when you could have the whole of Tamriel?"

I shook my head, not understanding and swaying on my feet.

"I've been a Blade since I was twenty," Caius said grimly. "I know the look of a Septim when I see one."

"A…" the word died on my lips. A Septim. As in the royal family? Caius looked more grave than I'd ever seen him. "So you think he's...?" I managed. "So what…"

I never got the chance to finish my sentence. We'd been seen, and followed, and the door burst open as a flurry of battlemages fell upon us. The first Imperial I'd found, the friendly one, fell to the ground with an axe buried in his forehead and an expression of wide-eyed surprise on his face, and we were outnumbered and far, far outmatched and a ferocious storm of magicka was building, ready to strike.

"Brennan, get us out of here!" I heard Darius shout, and even as a frost spell hit me and my bones began to freeze from the inside out the world began to move in a nauseating blur of color and light as I was snatched away from Ald'ruhn.


	42. Chapter 42

The world came back to me in jagged shards of pain. Half-frozen and blood-soaked and utterly drained, it took me a moment to realize that there was a stone floor underneath me and a dead body on top of me, took a moment for the clamor of noises to resolve themselves into voices.

I was sick before I could stop myself, but the weight I was pinned under wouldn't let me move away from it and the world was blurry with tears. I pushed at the body that had been the friendly Imperial, barely managing to move him, my teeth chattering from the lingering frost spell.

Brennan was shouting something, Caius was shouting something, voices I didn't know were shouting, but I couldn't make out any of the words for the roaring in my ears. I tried to wriggle out from my spot on the floor, and then suddenly the body above me was hoisted off and a huge tattooed Nord peered down at me for a moment before scooping me up and depositing me on a cot in another room.

"Who…" My throat felt bloody and hoarse.

He pressed a large, cool hand to my forehead. "Still, now. I'm a priest. You're in the chapels at Ebonheart."

Ebonheart. Of course. It would have been the first safe place Brennan would think of. I struggled to sit up.

"Easy, lass. That's a nasty spell."

He reached for a blanket, frowning concern, but I'd managed to lurch upright, fighting dizziness as my vision went gray. "I need… in there," I managed.

"You should—"

"Alora." Someone knelt in front of me, holding my hands.

I recognized the voice, even though I couldn't see properly. "Darius." I wavered for a moment as my vision cleared. "The others," I said, because I still had the presence of mind to know that _Septim_ was something I shouldn't talk about because Caius would kill me. "The…" I had pulled a sword from his belly and I didn't even know his name. "The boy."

Darius hesitated, and I knew before he told me. "He didn't make it."

I buried my head in my bloody hands and gulped for air.

"Is she hurt?" This from Caius, in the doorway.

"She's not _well_," Darius answered, weary and angry.

"Leave her. We've got to get to Cyrodiil."

I glared up at him and started to push to my feet, but the soft voice of a priestess cut in. "Sir, _none_ of you are in any condition to travel, and if you would just let me take a look at that—"

"Get off me," he growled at her, slipping his bracer higher up on his forearm and fastening it tightly to staunch the bleeding of an angry-looking cut. "You should have taken us to the Imperial City," he snapped bitterly at Brennan.

"I _can't_," Brennan bit back, flushed and furious. "You know that."

"There's a mage in the Council Chambers. It's not far. She should be able to get us there," Darius cut in before either of them could argue further.

"Let's go, then." Caius frowned at me, seeming abruptly more a warrior than a spy. "If you're not fit to fight, stay behind."

I wanted to demonstrate my fitness for fighting with a well-placed burst of lightning but Darius put an arm around me and helped me up and there didn't seem to be any point. It seemed a long way to the castle but we reached the Breton woman who'd sent us to Mournhold, and after a quick exchange she agreed to send the lot of us to the Imperial City. Almost faster than I could register everything began moving one more time, colors blurring around me, and I wished desperately as Vvardenfell began fading away that the world would just be still for one damned minute.

It was raining in the Imperial City, the streets dismal and dark. As soon as we settled, Caius grabbed Darius by the shoulder. "Get to the palace. Get Jauffre; tell him we're coming. Get whatever men you can assemble, and do it _quickly_."

Darius nodded and took off at a sprint, disappearing into the night.

"Can you walk?"

It took me a second to recognize who was speaking. I hadn't heard the Imperial (_Septim?_) talk yet. But he was looking at me with raised eyebrows as though he thought I might fall over and die on the spot, and as though it might be irritating.

I nodded. Everyone's packs had fallen into the street, and I stooped to pick them up but Brennan took them out of my hands.

"Let's go," Caius said quietly, tense and alert. "Toward the palace, nice and easy, and keep your eyes open."

Brennan fell into step. "For what?"

"For _anything_."

There was hardly anyone on the streets. It was dark and the weather was miserable, and the four of us walked on through what I belatedly recognized as the Temple District, soaking wet and shivering within moments. Whatever Darius had done, he had done it quickly, because we turned a corner and a dozen men were jogging our direction in heavy armor, and with the quick efficiency of trained bodyguards they surrounded the Imperial and Caius and walked off toward the palace in a hurry.

Not knowing what else to do, Brennan and I followed, jogging a little to keep up with the taller soldiers before one of the guards turned and frowned, looking forbidding. "This doesn't concern you, citizens."

I hesitated a moment, confused. "We're with…"

"This doesn't concern you," he said again. "Move along."

Brennan and I watched them go, standing in the middle of the street in the pouring rain. "That was rude," he said, sounding a little faint.

"Welcome to Cyrodiil, I guess." I shivered.

Brennan sounded a little haggard. "Where are we?"

"Temple District."

"Oh." He was quiet a moment, the patter of raindrops the only sound. "Doesn't our father live here?"

I'd rather freeze to death in the street than have to deal with _that_. "I don't know where," I admitted honestly. "But there'll be an inn around here somewhere. We can at least sleep," I told him. Just then, I could have slept for a week.

But the only inn we found in the district was locked up with the lights off and no one answered when Brennan knocked on the door. "Another district," I said, shivering. "There's always the Sintavs, too."

Brennan winced. "It's awfully late. I'd hate to wake them."

I nodded, freezing and bone-weary and trembling with every step. "Let's keep on, then."

Talos Plaza District was more accommodating, and it was hard to miss the Tiber Septim Hotel. Brennan gaped a little at the price of the room, and then again when I paid for it without protest, but he didn't argue in front of the publican. She, for her part, didn't bat an eyelash at the pair of rain-and-blood-soaked Bretons dripping all over her carpet.

"Forty drakes," Brennan said once we'd made it to the room. He collapsed into a chair. "For one bed, for _one night_."

I fell onto the bed, which was blissfully soft. "Not just a bed. A room. And a fire and food, and…." I raised my head with an effort. "You're not hurt, are you?"

He peeled off his dripping robe, pulling dry clothes from one of the packs. "Not hurt, no. Will Caius care if I borrow his clothes? My pack got soaked through."

"No." Of course, he might, because it was just the sort of thing that he might be unpredictably picky about, but I was still irritated at Caius and didn't care just then if he got huffy. I didn't care just then if he jumped off a _bridge_.

I was almost asleep when Brennan shook me, gently. "Alora. You should get dry."

I shook my head a little, barely rousing. "Too tired."

"You're getting the bed wet. It's too expensive a bed to get wet."

For some reason, that seemed to make sense. I changed, shivering, and though Brennan was setting out food at the table I didn't have the energy left to eat or do anything but collapse back into bed and pull the covers up to my nose.

Given the events of the day, I should have expected the dreams.

Over and over the image came to me of the Imperial boy's face in the moment the sword slipped into his body, and every time I tried to stop it, but every time I failed. I saw Calla, dead and bloodless and cut open at the belly, saw the Imperial City with Oblivion gates gaping wide within the walls. I saw a young man I didn't know kneeling in a fallow garden, covered in blood and weeping, broken-hearted. I saw the friendly Imperial who'd died with an axe in his head, who had been strange and innocent but sweet and wanted to scream.

Every time I got close to waking I was dragged back down into sleep and the endless flow of dreams, tumbling over and over in my mind. Fragments of things, half-remembered flickers. A gray-eyed girl clutching a crown in a bloody fist. The sun eaten by lions. Time broken, an hourglass spilled and scattered. The last red sunrise before the world died.

And then Brennan's voice came through my nightmares with the weight of a spell behind it, a pillar of light dispelling the darkness: _fear not, fear not._

When I finally woke up there was light streaming in from the windows, hitting me at just the right angle to make me squint and try to burrow back under the covers with a muffled noise of complaint.

Brennan laughed a little nearby, moving close. "You're awake. How do you feel?"

I wanted to go back to _sleep_ is how I felt, but there were physical priorities my body was reminding me of rather insistently. "Like a zombie," I managed, dry-mouthed and pushing to my feet. "Ask me in half an hour."

Half an hour later I still felt fairly undead, but I was cleaner, and Brennan smiled at me when I re-emerged. "Are you hungry?"

"For anything but cheese," I muttered, sitting down at the table feeling drained and weak. "What time is it?"

"Mid-afternoon. Tea?"

"_Mid-afternoon_, really?"

He smiled. "Morndas mid-afternoon, no less. Lazy girl." I'd missed an entire day. The thought was baffling. "You got a message," he went on. "This morning." He pushed an envelope at me across the table.

Darius' scrabbly writing slanted across the front. It read:

_A—_

_Trapped by Ocato in an endless round of emergency meetings and starting to think am in one of the lesser hells. Won't let me go. Beginning to hate Altmer. Every Blade in Tamriel has knickers in a twist over the newcomer. Newcomer a very odd bird. _

_Hate politicians. Nothing good ever comes out of a committee. The Emissary of Azura thing beginning to circulate so expect some mass stupidity. _

_Caius sorry about being an ass. Realizes he was an ass mostly because I keep telling him 'Caius, you're an ass' but Caius also stuck in endless meetings with Ocato and Blades and can't get out. Keeps offering suggestions about how to make it up to you but most of them are illegal, hilarious, or physically impossible without the flexibility of circus performers. _

_Am not circus performer, will pass. _

_Need a drink. Can't sleep without you. Or couldn't, I think, Ocato won't let me try. Hope you are feeling better and Brennan is not telling you how bad you are for being a heathen. Like that you are a heathen. Come to palace when you can? Break me out? Hate to ask again, but will make it worth your while._

_D_

I smiled as I folded the letter.

"Is everything all right?"

"Yes." I yawned. "He wants me to come up to the palace. Would you want to go?"

Brennan sputtered a bit. "You're asking me if I want to go to the _Imperial Palace?_"

I hesitated. "Yes?"

He laughed weakly, a little incredulous. "It's just… you seem very blasé about it all. But I'd never been off Vvardenfell until a week ago. This all seems very… exalted."

"I can see that." I stretched my neck from side to side. "I have to go out to the Market first, though. Want me to pick you up anything?" I pushed up from the table, over to the table my pack was on, hoping I had something clean enough to wear out into the city.

There was a sprig of moonflower tucked into my pack, freshly-cut, the stem still sticky.

I stared at it for a long moment, not hearing Brennan's reply. I tucked it in my pocket automatically, wondering how it had got there and what it was supposed to mean.


	43. Chapter 43

I didn't have to wait long to find out about the flower.

With a basket and a pouch of gold I set off into the Market District, running a quick list of errands through my mind as I walked. I needed new clothes; mine kept getting bloodstained or cut open or just generally destroyed. My boots needed repaired. Brennan should have some books about Cyrodiil. I needed more restorative potions. I needed…

I stopped, mid-thought, at the sight of another sprig of moonflower resting on the edge of a crate.

I cast a quick glance around but no one seemed to be paying any attention. After a moment's hesitation I walked over and picked it up, twisting the stem in my fingers and taking in the sharp green scent as I tried to think.

There was nothing else but the flower. If it was a signal, it wasn't a very good one. Or so I thought, until I caught sight of another sprig of moonflower on the ground in the entrance to a little alley.

I teetered a moment between caution and curiosity, trying to peer down the alley without actually stepping in. At the end of the alley a man leaned against the stone wall, robed and hooded in black, and all I could see of his face was the tip of his nose and a full mouth, half-quirked in a smile with reddish stubble on his chin. I let out a breath I hadn't realized I'd been holding. "Alain."

The half-smile widened as he pushed away from the wall. "Little sister. You've been busy."

Little sister? I held up the sprig of moonflower. "You've been gardening?"

My uncle pushed his hood back. "Hardly. I wondered if you'd see it."

"I saw the one you put in my pack. That _was_ you, wasn't it?"

He walked toward me. "Had to get your attention somehow, and wanted to get you away from that brother of yours. Walk with me. I have news for you."

"Oh?"

He surprised me by slipping an arm around my shoulder and smiling, a fierce and satisfied expression. "Oh yes."

I glanced over at him as we walked out of the alley. "You're in a good mood."

Alain's smile only widened. "A very good mood. You've been quite entertaining, lately."

He didn't say another word to me until we were tucked at a table at the Feed Bag, with food and wine in front of us and the remnants of a smirk still playing at the corners of his mouth. "I have to say," he began, pouring himself a generous glass, "I didn't really expect you back in the Imperial City so soon. Wine?"

Not a chance, I thought, but only shook my head. "You said you had news for me?"

"I do." He took a drink, watching me. "You needn't worry about the vampire anymore."

That got my full attention. "Did you kill him?"

He shrugged. "Didn't have to. He was dead by the time I got there, along with everyone else in the sanctuary. Which is very good for you, by the way."

"Is it?"

"Yes. Otherwise things might have been dangerous for you in Cyrodiil." Before I could ask what he meant he leaned forward, resting his elbows on the table. "You know who I'm talking about. Let's call them the Society, shall we? Given our surroundings, it might be best."

I leaned back in my chair, trying to appear casual. "All right."

"Most people in the Imperial City wouldn't give two figs about what happens in Morrowind," he went on. "But most people in the Imperial City are idiots. Word's beginning to trickle in about your exploits in Mournhold. Of course, it's only the most superficial aspects of it that are getting any attention. Keep in mind that the… Society," he said carefully, "are active all over Tamriel, where they're wanted, and where they're not. And you, my dear, have knocked down a hornet's nest unawares."

I swallowed. "Have I?"

Alain smirked again. "Yes indeed. You know as well as I do that the Society in Morrowind was in Helseth's pocket. Very comfortably in Helseth's pocket, no less. Which the Morag Tong can't have been happy about." Another small, measured sip of wine. "Didn't stop the Society from taking out Helseth in the end, though, when another patron promised more."

I toyed with the hem of my napkin. "Does this patron have a name?"

"Whoever was pulling Almalexia's strings. I don't have a name, but you've seen the hourglass, haven't you?"

I nodded.

"Them. If they're calling themselves anything, they've not made it obvious. If they're even still around. You've heard about the deaths?"

I stared. "_More_ deaths?"

"A lot more. Pockets of people crammed into houses, all killed, all without a mark on them. I'll admit, they're not my real interest in all this, but it _is_ rather remarkable."

I met his eyes, so like my mother's. "What _is_ your interest in all this?"

His expression went brittle at the edges. "I take exception to my beloved _family_ turning my sister into a pawn to orchestrate my murder when neither of us had been anything but loyal all our lives. And I take exception to being hunted like an animal from one end of Tamriel to the other when I was barely old enough to shave. Whatever is bad for the Society is good for me and you, dear girl, have been very bad for the Society."

I blinked. "How?"

Alain's smirk returned. "Not only have you sent their new patron on the run—if rumors can be believed, _devouring_ itself—but in all probability you've also ushered in a new era of daedra worship in Morrowind."

I sat back in my chair, stunned. "What?"

"You've not thought about it? Others have." He began eating, quick and efficient and talking between bites. "Vivec's death didn't go over well with the Morag Tong, particularly in light of the Society's rise to prominence under Helseth. And the 'one true goddess and everyone else will be persecuted' bit really didn't go over well. But now you've waltzed in and ousted Almalexia and everyone's fascinated with the Daedra again, which allows the Morag Tong to carry on in Mephala's name without anyone at the top getting huffy about it or going through other channels."

"Like the Society," I mused.

"Exactly." He shook his head a little, thinking. "Between you and the Morag Tong, the Society's effectively lost their place in Morrowind again. And ordinarily, the Society might take exception to that and have you made an example of while you're on Cyrodiilic soil, but even _that's_ unlikely, now." He grinned.

"Why is it unlikely?"

He chuckled, low and unpleasant. "I mentioned before, your mother wanted me to look into the vampire situation, but when I did everyone in the sanctuary was dead."

I nodded.

"You can't be expected to know. But when _everyone _at a sanctuary comes up dead…" His eyes narrowed as he looked into his wine. "It's almost never done. It speaks of desperation, of traitors. The whole sanctuary rotting from the inside out. If they're being driven out of Morrowind and slaughtered on street corners, and if they're desperate enough to turn on their own in Cyrodiil…" He let the sentence hang.

"Then things are very bad for the Society," I finished.

Alain smiled. "And very good for me."

"I see." So much else had been going on I hadn't really given the vampire too much thought. "What about the other man?"

He frowned. "What other man?"

"The…" I didn't know his name. "The Imperial. The dark man of Cheydinhal."

Quite unexpectedly, Alain burst out laughing. "Oh, girl." His teeth showed when he laughed, white and slightly pointed. "Don't ever call him that to his face."

I shifted in my chair, feeling a little foolish. "What am I supposed to call him, then?"

Alain snorted. "Call him the misbegotten bastard of an inbred whore. That's what _I_ always called him. Or _prat_, if I was short on time."

I blinked. "He'd just try to kill me again."

Alain shook his head. "If he'd tried to kill you, you'd be dead. In any case, he's gone missing. Cheydinhal was his little slice of the pie, you know. I can't imagine he's resting easy at the moment. Probably gone to ground. Maybe wandered back home to Skingrad, even."

_Skingrad?_ I frowned. "What about Mother?"

He shrugged. "If he tries anything, she'll kill him. And she's not stupid enough to start anything she doesn't want to finish." He took a last bite and pushed to his feet, tossing coins onto the table. "I've kept you long enough. I'm sure you've errands to run, places to go, religions to topple."

I smiled, despite myself.

Back outside, he glanced at the sky and pulled his black hood up again. "You'll be going back to Morrowind soon?"

"Probably." I watched him tuck something further into his sleeve. "Will I see you around?"

Alain smirked a little and kissed both my cheeks, shaking his head at my expression of surprise. "You never learned it off in your desert hell, but that's called _manners_ in High Rock. And yes. And no. You won't see me, but I'll be around." He turned, walking away, the meager shadows of afternoon seeming to reach out and embrace him as he disappeared from sight.

-oOo-

"I got you some books," I called to Brennan when I got back to the room. "Don't know how useful they'll be, but those awful guidebooks are all they… oh."

Hastrel Ottus was sitting with Brennan at the table.

"Hello," I managed, sounding only a little like a strangled rat.

"You can talk," Hastrel said unnecessarily.

I swallowed. "Yes."

He looked like a man who was searching for words. "That's good."

Brennan watched the two of us, more amused by the second. "Don't either of you go getting all poetic and sentimental on me, now. Come sit, Alora."

"I can't," I lied, and edged back toward the door. "I've got to… I'll be back." I headed out the inn and down the streets, making for the palace as quickly as I could, and only felt like a little bit of a coward.

-oOo-

The palace was a flurry of activity, but Darius wasn't where I'd been told he'd be. I wandered around a bit, hoping to spot him, and had turned into a hallway when a familiar voice came from behind me. "I'm told I've been an ass."

I had to smile as I turned around to face Caius. "You weren't at your most charming, let's put it that way. You had your reasons."

"Fair enough." He looked tired. "You looking for Darius?"

"Is he around?"

"If you know where to look. Come on, I'll take you to him."

I fell into step beside him, taking in his fine black clothes and the glances he got from the people we passed. "Is it strange to be back in Cyrodiil?"

"Not really. Some things you never forget. Here we are." He pushed open a door, revealing Darius slouched over in a chair.

He smiled when he saw me, looking as tired as Caius. "Hey."

"You two look awful." I rummaged in my pack a moment before I fished out a bottle of brandy. "Here."

Caius took it, bemused. "You know there are other things to do in the palace besides get drunk."

Darius snatched it away from him. "If you don't want it, I do. I'd rather be fighting off swarms of giant cliff racers than have to sit through one more council, swear to all the gods." He uncorked the bottle and took a generous swallow. "You look a lot better."

"I'm fine," I said, sitting down. "What's been going on?"

They glanced at each other.

"Or am I not allowed to know?" I asked when the silence began to stretch.

Caius gave a huff of a laugh. "Give me that." He took the bottle out of Darius' hands, taking a slow drink. "You know rather too much already. That's the problem."

"They're going to kill me, aren't they?" I asked, only half joking. "I hate Cyrodiil."

He smiled a bit. "Nothing quite so barbaric. But don't be surprised if Jauffre has you dragged in and forces you to swear to secrecy. Please tell me you haven't been discussing our little incident at Ald'ruhn around town," he finished, frowning.

"Of course not," I assured him. "So what's going on?"

Another long glance at Darius before Caius got up to lock the door. "You're aware of what our young man from Ald'ruhn is, yes?"

"You said Septim," I reminded him. "Is he, or is he just an impostor?"

Caius settled into a chair. "He's both. And therein lies the problem." At my expression, he continued. "He's an impostor in that he's not a natural-born Septim, as best as we can tell. He's a copy, like the copies of Almalexias were." He took another sip of brandy. "_Unlike_ the copies of Almalexia, this one's actually a copy of the real thing. Enman, in all probability. He spent some time in Morrowind as a young man. So by birth, he's nobody, but by blood… he's significant. And given the situation with Dagon, and the Empire imploding…" Caius grimaced. "Things got tangled very quickly when he arrived."

I thought about that for a moment. "Does he have a name?"

"They called him Gavus, back at Ald'ruhn. I don't know if they'll keep it."

Darius took the bottle back from Caius, took a long drink and then offered it to me. I held up a hand in refusal. "What happens now?"

Caius stretched. "Now everyone clucks over it like a bunch of overexcited chickens. He's not the only ball Ocato's got to juggle, you know. There are rumors that Hammerfell is preparing for war. How accurate they are, I don't know, but Valenwood's been sending a lot of representatives in the last few weeks. High Rock and Skyrim have gotten awfully cozy lately. Elsweyr's still starving and snarling. The only bright spots in all of it are that the daedra are gone, Morrowind's back under what passes for control—for the next five minutes, anyway—and Black Marsh isn't screaming about war anymore."

I laughed humorlessly. "Sounds like a party."

"Only violent and barely predictable and nobody's dancing," Caius added.

Darius smiled faintly. "A Telvanni party, then." He looked over at me, tired but hopeful. "Can you stay?"

He got a message dispatched to Brennan to tell him where I'd be before he led me down the hallway to the room he'd been staying in. As I settled down in bed with him, I thought about the flicker of sight I'd had in Mournhold and the image of the little dark-eyed girl, and I thought about telling Darius. But it was only a minute before his breathing went even and slow, and when I raised my head to look at him and he was asleep, I told myself I'd tell him tomorrow.


	44. Chapter 44

Darius wasn't there the next morning when I woke up, groggy and rubbing grit out of my eyes and a little startled to be waking up in an unfamiliar bed.

Instead, he'd left a note on the desk:

_A—_

_Duty calls. Keep telling it to bugger off but keeps calling. Azura never mentioned paperwork and politicians in her little pep talks. Don't know if I will be around today. Avoid the Blades if you can. Particularly the Wrath of Jauffre. In a hell of a mood lately. _

_Can we go back to Morrowind yet?_

_D_

I spent the day at the palace, waiting around—reading books, watching the people go by, writing letters to my mother and Fena—but I didn't see Darius. I saw Caius, once, but only long enough for him to tell me my brother was being called before Jauffre, presumably to be sworn to silence. By the time Darius was back it was long past nightfall and I was already asleep, so I didn't tell him that day, either.

Several days passed in the same manner, of waiting only half-patiently with no end in sight, no orders, and no objectives to work on while Caius and Darius were elsewhere. Brennan passed the days by exploring the city and spending time with the Ottus family, who, predictably enough, liked him very much.

"Ida's curious about you," he told me one day when we got together for dinner.

I tried to remember. "Ida."

"Our sister," he reminded me with a small frown.

I picked at my food, feeling dully sick. "I'm not sure me going and meeting the rest of the family is the best of ideas."

He smiled, teasing lightly. "What, you're not afraid, are you? They don't bite."

"Afraid isn't the word," I told him, spearing a bit of potato I didn't intend to eat.

It seemed to take him aback. "She's not that bad, really. Alessia, I mean. Ida's very sweet."

I tried to pull together the words to make him understand. "Look, I'm happy that you've found them. I'm happy that it makes you happy. But for right now..." An unexpected surge of emotion overtook me and I clenched my teeth in irritation at the prickling of my eyes.

"Hey, now," he said, his eyes soft with concern. "It's not so bad. And no one's going to make you. Are you all right?"

I gave up, pushing my plate away. "I'm fine. Really, I am. I'm just ready to go home." Not that I even knew where home was anymore. I couldn't take a child back to the temple, didn't know for certain what was going to happen between Darius and me, and now all my family was in Cyrodiil.

Still, home was Morrowind. Even with so little else staying constant, I knew that much.

It was days after that when I realized I'd had enough. Surely there was _something_ to do, and if not, then I knew there'd be at least one person in the palace who would share my lack of inclusion in the flurry of goings-on: Calla.

The only problem was that I hadn't seen her. I'd seen Jauffre a couple of times. Some of the other Blades that I knew by sight but not by name I'd seen several times. Even Baurus I'd caught sight of a time or two, and last time I'd been here Baurus and Calla had never been too far from each other. But Calla herself was nowhere to be found.

At least finding her gave me an objective.

I sat for almost an hour in one of the atriums, watching the ebb and flow of people, waiting for one of the Blades to happen by and keeping my ears open for any familiar voices. It was nearly noon by the time Baurus rounded the corner and came through, the ghost of a limp in his gait. I got to my feet and followed. "Excuse me, Baurus?"

He turned, frowning, and I wondered for a second if there was a more formal address I was supposed to use. After a blank look he shook himself. "You're the advisor. For Darius."

I managed a smile I hoped looked friendly instead of frustrated. "Yes. I was wondering, is Calla still at the palace?"

Baurus wasn't an amateur at subterfuge by any means, but he _was_ tired and distracted, and so he hesitated just a bit too long before he answered, "No. She headed out days ago; haven't heard from her since. Excuse me."

As he walked away I stood in the atrium, wondering where she really was and why Baurus was lying.

-oOo-

I filled the little flask to the top with magicka potions, feeling vaguely scandalized at my own plan but not nearly scandalized enough to stop. Calla was in the palace, I had a feeling, but I didn't know why I hadn't seen her or why Baurus had said she'd left.

I intended to find out.

But I'd forgotten when I slipped out of the hall and cloaked myself in invisibility that it was noontime and the halls were full. Only a few minutes into my little adventure I found myself trapped at a standstill behind a familiar black-clad shoulder as I waited for the foot traffic to clear, trying to be as unobtrusive as possible.

Unfortunately, I was just unobtrusive enough for someone to bump into me from behind, but not unobtrusive enough to keep momentum from pushing me into Caius.

The person behind me apologized to Caius, believing he'd pushed into him. Caius, though, took in the distance, the space, the size of the figure that had bumped into him, and raised an eyebrow, somehow catching hold of my arm unerring. "March," he ordered quietly as soon as no one was watching, giving me a nudge down the hall.

"Drop the spell," he ordered as soon as he'd steered me into an alcove, pushing my back against the stone of the wall. I did, sighing. He still looked tired, but he also looked faintly amused and more than a little irritated. "What the _hell_ do you think you're doing? If anyone catches you prowling the palace invisible they're going to assume the worst and you're going to be in a lot of trouble."

"I'm trying to find Calla," I admitted.

He frowned. "I heard she wasn't in the palace."

"I think she is. Baurus said she wasn't, but I think he was lying."

It intrigued him, I think. "Oh?"

"I was just trying to find her." I peered around his body to look at the hallway. "I didn't know the halls would be so crowded."

He glanced back over his shoulder, thinking. "It'll settle down in a few minutes. And after everyone eats they'll be sleepy and dull. If you're going to search, it's not a bad time."

I looked up at him in surprise.

"Report back to me if you find her," he finished. "I'd like to know what's going on. You might try down the northwest hall, three floors up. There were a couple of Blades acting odd up there yesterday. Don't get caught, understand?"

I nodded. "Of course."

He shook his head in warning before he slipped back out around the corner, with a final, "And don't push your luck."

Luck was on my side, though, and Caius had been right. It was only a matter of minutes before the hallways cleared, and the few stragglers that remained weren't looking for an invisible, nosy priestess. Cloaked in spells, I slipped through the halls, avoiding couriers and politicians, gawking a little bit at the beauty of the palace as I walked on.

Northwest hall, three floors up. Taking little sips of potion and feeling better than I had in days, I made my way that direction, sidestepping the young Blade I didn't know who hustled around a corner unexpectedly.

I felt like laughing even though I knew I couldn't. It was such a ridiculous mission, sneaking under the noses of the Blades to find Calla and see if I couldn't persuade her to do something interesting. What had she said we'd do? Spiders? Moustaches on the dragon statue, if we could get up high enough, I remembered her saying that.

Down a long hallway on the third floor, I saw what was beginning to be a familiar sight: a guard standing watch by a door. While it wasn't bolted from the outside, it was clear there was something inside worth keeping under guard. These were guest quarters, up here, not offices or meeting-rooms. Flattening myself against the wall, I cast a subtle detection spell, watching a familiar bloom of purple spring to life inside the room. One figure, lying down, not moving.

I had to laugh, silently. If she was napping at midday, she was probably hung over.

Maybe she would still be up for trouble. Still, I didn't see a way into the room that didn't involve walking directly into a Blade. Ordinarily I'd just have asked to see her, but if even Caius had been told she wasn't here, that wasn't an option.

Against the far wall was a table, and on it, a paperweight of some heavy black stone. It would do. I hefted it in my hand a moment before I tossed it down the marble stairs, clattering on every step and echoing so loudly I wondered if half the palace wouldn't hear it.

It got the Blade's attention, anyway. He looked alarmed and tried to see what might have made the noise, and with a quick hesitant look at the door, he headed over to investigate. I moved by him easily enough, silent and invisible, and while he was occupied I slipped through the door, closing it soundlessly behind me with a grin of triumph as my spell broke.

The room smelled like illness and death.

My smile died as I took in the surroundings: dozens of bottles lined up on top of a dresser, the smell of lavender that couldn't mask the underlying scent of vomit, the dark hangings drawn and giving the place a gloomy pall.

"Priestess?" The dry, cracked sound didn't even sound like Calla's voice, but it was her lying in bed, looking at me.

"Hi, Calla," I whispered, feeling abruptly like a complete idiot. How had I forgotten she was dying?

She sat up, pushing against the blankets with an effort, dark rings under her eyes. "You can talk," she managed. With an unsteady hand she reached out for a glass of water on a nearby table. "Thought you weren't coming back from Morrowind," she said after taking a sip.

"Change of plans," I said, keeping my voice low and trying not to gawk at how ill she looked. "I'm sorry, I didn't know you were sick. I wouldn't have bothered you if I'd known."

She laughed darkly, baring her teeth in a mockery of a smile. "I'm not fetching sick. And you're not bothering me, don't leave," she said, a little pleading. "Sit. Sit down. This isn't exactly a party, I know, but you're the first visitor they've let me have."

I sank stiffly to the side of the bed when she patted it. "About that," I began, and hesitated. "They didn't exactly let me in."

Her forehead wrinkled a little. "What, did you break in or something?"

I winced. "Something like that. Invisibility spells," I confessed.

She looked like she was about to choke for a second before she broke into quiet, heartfelt laughter, muffling the noise behind her hand and closing her eyes in mirth. "Are you _serious_? They don't know you're here?"

I shook my head.

She laughed again, sounding a little raspy but genuinely amused. "That's _fantastic_," she managed in a whisper. "Serves the bastards right to have you sneak in right under their noses. Jauffre would cry."

"Or kill me," I whispered back.

"Both at once, probably." Calla grinned. "Ye gods. What are you _doing_ here?"

"Wanted to see if you wanted to go do something," I admitted. "I didn't know you weren't feeling well. Why haven't they let you have visitors? Baurus told me you weren't even in the palace."

Calla's face fell. "You're kidding."

"No."

"_Shit_." She scowled down at her blankets. "So the new guy gets here and I'm just tossed aside completely."

_The new_… I bit my lip. "What's going on?"

Her eyes fell to her hands, the ring I'd given her loose on her finger as she twisted it. "Jauffre's a bastard, that's what's going on." She glanced up at me, grimacing. "Slipped me something. Only now it's killing me. But none of that matters anymore because they found some _other_ illegitimate Septim to save the day and huzzah and all that shit." She made a noise like a low growl. "It's a fetching mess, and the only way to save it is to get me locked up and out of the way."

I frowned; she'd said so much, but with so little detail. "I don't understand. Are you a prisoner?"

She shrugged, her mouth twisting. "I can't leave. Not that I have anywhere to go. But yeah. I'm told it's for my own protection. Only it's not _me_ they're protecting." At my blank look, she laughed humorlessly. "You know that Martin and I were…" she trailed off, gesturing uselessly.

"Involved?" I offered.

"Yeah. And Jauffre slipped me something," she finished, going grim again.

I frowned, taking in the hard set of her jaw. "What did he slip you?"

Calla glared up at me through dark lashes, sardonic and unhappy. "Come _on_, priestess. He's the Grandmaster of the Blades. One heir left, and that one determined to do stupid things like lead the battle at Bruma himself. With the fate of the entire world hanging on there being Septims around… Jauffre's not an idiot. He wanted insurance. And since we were already involved, it was just damned convenient." She grimaced. "Slipped me something, and got what he wanted. Another little bastard Septim, conveniently tucked away inside the unkillable, unstoppable Hero of Kvatch."

It took a second for her words to sink in. "You're pregnant?" I whispered. It came to me in a rush: there was an _heir_. Not born yet, true, but there was another Septim, and I wondered how the copy we'd brought from Ald'ruhn fit into things. The dream-image of Calla's bloodless body cut open at the belly battered at my memory painfully.

Calla scowled. "For all the good it does me. I'm still _dying_, too. Jauffre didn't know; Martin never told him. And the kid seems to have made the whole dying process decide to hurry up and go faster. I'm never going to live long enough to actually _have_ the little bastard." Her lips twisted miserably and she swallowed, hard.

I struggled to put it all together, trying to make myself think one thing at a time. "How do you know he slipped you something?" I asked, still trying to organize my thoughts: Calla's pregnant. With an heir. But she's dying. So there's no heir.

She gave another bitter smile. "He admitted to it after I started screaming at him like a whole flock of harpies. I think the news that I was dying and his plans weren't exactly going to work out was sort of a shock. Besides," she continued, taking a sip of water. "I was careful. I'm not stupid enough to get knocked up by accident."

My mouth closed so sharply my teeth clicked together.

Calla didn't notice. "So now you know." Her face crumpled, making her look very young. "Damn it, I just want to go _home_. I didn't sign up for this, you know? I thought I'd die in battle or see this through and it would be over. But it's never going to be over." She made a small noise in her throat. "I know it sounds goddamned babyish but I just want my _mum_, you know? That's all I want. But I won't ever see her again because the daedra killed her when they came for Martin and I don't even have a home to go back to."

She finished in a rush and buried her head in her hands, and though I hesitated, after a moment I moved closer and looped an arm around her shoulder.

She pushed me away immediately, quivering with irritation. "I don't want any fetching _pity_."

"Why? Calla, this is horrible," I managed. "I'd want my mum, too. I'd probably be screaming my head off day and night about how unfair the whole thing was."

She shook her head, twisting the ring on her finger. "You can only scream your head off for so long, you know? It doesn't fix things." She scraped a sleeve across her nose, annoyed at her own sniffles.

We sat for a minute in silence, not looking at each other, and I was beginning to wonder if I should just go when she said, very quietly, "If I asked you for a favor…" I looked up to find her watching me. "A _big_ favor," she continued. "Would you do it?"

"If I can," I answered. It didn't occur to me what she might ask, but just then—for her—I think I would have done almost anything.

She hesitated. "Will you take me home?"

I blinked, not understanding. "You said you didn't have—"

"I know," she cut me off. "I know there's not much left. But Kvatch is the only home I've ever known. I just want to go back before I die. I don't want to waste away in this stupid palace until I'm too sick to move, and they're not going to let me leave." She looked over at me, red-eyed. "I feel like… I have to do this. I wouldn't ask if it wasn't important."

My mouth had gone dry. "I don't even know where Kvatch _is_."

"About a day's journey past the other side of Skingrad," she said, looking hopeful at the thought that I was considering the idea. "No one will even know we're gone."

I stared at her, incredulous. "It's a day's journey to Skingrad. For Kvatch, and back… that's at least four days. They're going to know."

She gnawed at her bottom lip. "Well. I guess they will. But you must be good with that invisibility thing; you got in _here_. You can sneak us out and hide us on the road. Neither of us have actually done anything wrong," she pointed out. "And it's not like I'm not any good in a fight. I'm the Champion of Goddamned Cyrodiil, you know."

Even as stunned as I was I couldn't help but laugh. "The Goddamned is part of the title, right?"

She grinned weakly, trying to look more reckless than I knew she felt. "Course it is."

And the whole line of thought made me squirm in discomfort because it was a bad idea. I knew it was a bad idea; I knew that if we were caught at it there'd be hell to pay. Still, none of this was Calla's fault. She just wanted to go home. I could get her there. I'd even gone looking for her in hopes of maybe getting into a little trouble.

Not _this_ much trouble, granted. I wondered idly how good Jauffre was with that sword. Probably pretty damned good. _Damn it,_ I thought, and relented. "Leave a note," I said, warning her before I could change my mind about the whole idea. Her face lit up. "You have to let them know you're all right," I went on. "Not where you're going, but that you're safe, or else they'll think something horrible has happened. If I do this you've got to be careful. No stupid heroics—"

She grinned, genuinely this time. "Stupid heroics? _Me?_"

I sighed. "We'll need to hurry. Are you sure you're up to traveling?"

Another grin, this time cocky and wide. "Priestess, I'm up for _anything_. Just get me out of here and try to keep up."

As she crawled out of bed I couldn't help but think of that saying Caius was so fond of: it's easier to get forgiveness than permission. I supposed I was about to find out if it was true or not.


	45. Chapter 45

Deciding to go was one thing, actually getting out was another thing altogether. It's not as though the Blade outside was going to look the other way while we opened the door and wandered off. And though I'd heard there were supposed to be secret passages riddling the palace, Jauffre wasn't a fool. It was hardly likely he'd detain her in a room with a hidden exit.

"We could jump, I guess," Calla said faintly, looking out the window at the stone below.

I glanced outside and frowned. "We could. I'm sure they'd give us very nice funerals when we broke our necks from the fall. Or you'd get a nice funeral, anyway. They'd probably dump my body in the river."

"It can't be that high." She stood on tiptoe, looking down her nose to get a better view. "What is it, thirty feet? Forty?"

I stared at her. "You survive thirty foot drops often? Because I don't think I would. And even if you did, your child probably wouldn't. It'd be a hell of a landing."

Her expression darkened. "It'd be a quick solution though, wouldn't it? I could get back to dying on my own time instead of on his."

I had been rummaging through the little desk for paper and ink, but at the words I stopped short, my hands going still on the smooth wood. When I looked over her jaw was set. "Calla…"

"Forget it."

I hesitated. If she wouldn't live to see him born anyway, and if it would extend her life… "If it's what you want, there's a potion," I told her. There were three potions, actually, just that I knew of, written in the pages of my book.

She still didn't look at me. "To get rid of…?"

"Yes."

Calla was quiet a moment, the muscles in her jaw working. When she finally did look at me her eyes were flat. "Could you get it?"

I nodded. I'd have to make it, but she didn't need to know that.

She gnawed at her bottom lip, grimacing as she considered the idea, warring emotions flickering over her face. Finally she nodded, pushing away from the window. "I'll think about it. Right now I just want to get out of here. What about the sheets? We could tie them together and climb down, maybe?"

I looked more closely. "I don't think that window even opens. We'd have to break it, and that would be loud. We're going to have to get out the door somehow. For now…" I tapped the desk. "Paper, ink. Write your note."

She took up the quill grudgingly, but after a moment a smirk split her face and she wrote quickly, thick black lines scrawling across the page as I turned my attention back to the problem of getting out of the room.

In the end, it was sheer dumb luck that got us out and not any real skill or stealth. Only a few minutes after Calla set aside her quill a healer came in, old and half-blind and clucking sympathetically over her patient. Calla swallowed her medicine dutifully, forced a cough I could tell was fake and said she was tired and just wanted to rest undisturbed for the afternoon and would that be all right?

The healer patted her knee, murmuring assurances as Calla sniffled a little and managed a brave but watery smile. From my place at the wall, hidden by spells, I rolled my eyes.

I knew she was laying it on thick because as soon as the healer's back was turned and she made to leave Calla shot a wicked grin in my direction. Cloaked by spells and only inches behind the old healer we crept out of the room when she left, the door standing open just a moment more than it should have, and I took Calla's hand to guide her quickly down the stairs so we wouldn't get separated. Tucked away in an empty room to catch my breath and get my bearings again, I dropped the spells and let out a quiet sigh of relief, shaken by our audacity.

Calla looked as tired as she did exhilarated by her own rebellion. I snorted quietly. "You should have been in the theater."

She shook her head, half-grinning. "You think? _Oh healer_," she choked out in a dramatic whisper, rolling her eyes skyward. "Everything fading… all alone. So cold. Hold my hand, healer…"

I clapped a hand over my mouth to muffle the unexpected laugh that bubbled its way through my lips, trying not to make a peep as the sound of armored footsteps moved past the door. "Stop it," I whispered when they faded away. "We've got to get going. No more dramatics."

"So _cold!"_

"Hush!"

Calla shook with silent laughter, her eyes screwed shut. It was several seconds before I was sure neither of us were going to burst into inconvenient laughter and we dared our way back out into the hallway, slipping through the corridors and managing to get back to Darius' room.

With my quill hovering over a blank sheet of paper, I hesitated. Smuggling the Champion of Cyrodiil out under the noses of the Blades was not going to be something anyone was bound to shrug off. On the other hand, she hadn't done anything wrong. I hadn't done anything wrong. We were just going for a walk. A long walk, granted, but we were free citizens of the Empire and they couldn't keep us here against our will.

I sighed a little, still damned uncomfortable about the whole thing. I unclasped my necklace and traced letters around the points of the star in a circle, sitting down to work. After a moment's hesitation, I wrote a message, then encoded it quickly, the same substitution cipher Caius had used in his letter to me. Before encoding, my message read:

_Caius,_

_I found what I was looking for, caged and angry. The dying hero of a dead city, mistress of a dead dragon, mother of a dying babe. I'm taking her home to say her last goodbyes. I mean no disloyalty by my actions, and regret I cannot make my report in person. _

_Duty calls in a different voice, for me. I will protect her and return as quickly as I can to face whatever consequences await._

_Alora_

I folded the letter and marked it with the star. It was Caius, he would figure it out. Once my necklace was back in place I pulled over another paper, writing quickly:

_D—_

_Have to leave for a few days. Would not be leaving if not important. Will explain everything when I get back. Please don't leave for Morrowind without me? _

_Sorry about this in advance. Love you. Need to speak with you in private at some point before next autumn if can be arranged. _

_A_

I grimaced down at the page, unsatisfied. It sounded a bit dire, and if it sounded dire to me, then Darius would worry, definitely. On impulse, I bent again to the paper and added a quick postscript:

_Can't lie: have run off to join circus. Am told circus performers very flexible._

Behind me, Calla snickered. I sighed and burned the scratch papers I'd used. "It's rude to read over people's shoulders, you know."

She tossed me a cloak. "Let's get out of here."

Getting out of the palace after that was almost absurdly easy. We'd abandoned the idea of taking packs, because they were too bulky to sneak around with properly and she assured me there was a little town nearby where we could resupply. Once we were out the palace doors she seemed to breathe a little easier, moving beside me silently, and once we were outside the city gates and halfway across the bridge, she sighed in satisfaction. "This should be safe."

It broke the spell, but there was no one around to see. I let mine drop, feeling my magicka come back drip by drip as we walked along in silence, feeling suspended between the deep blue lake and the blue sky above.

With the exception of watching sunsets with me, Calla hadn't been out of the city since the day the daedra attacked, and so she didn't know that Weye had been utterly destroyed. She kicked at a charred piece of lumber half-heartedly and frowned back at the City. "I thought it was still here," she mumbled. She eyed the landscape, still dotted with the remnants of the gates. "I didn't know it was this bad."

Any surge of energy she'd had earlier at the prospect of rebellion had drained, and in the absence of it she looked dull-eyed and fragile.

"Do we need to go back?" I asked.

"No." She heaved a deep breath, looking up at the sky. "Let's go. We'll just have to rough it for a while."

Truthfully, I've been through worse. It wasn't nearly as cold as it had been and the skies above were clear and dry. We didn't pass anyone else on the road, but though we walked steadily on and only stopped for the shortest of breaks, by dusk we were still on the shores of Lake Rumare, with White Gold Tower rising high in the near distance.

I was even less comfortable once the road turned west, when the terrain became hillier and we had to slow down because of the dark. The dry, blowing grasses swayed in the breeze on either side of us and the shadows of the bare trees above shifted over the ground, making every rock look like a crouching animal. At home in Morrowind, I would have been able to tell which threats were real and which were imagined, but here I couldn't and it made me deeply uneasy.

In the thin starlight, Calla looked haggard.

"We're not going to make it to Skingrad tonight," I told her.

She shook her head. "I don't know of anywhere close to stop. And we can't camp on the road."

We pushed on for another half an hour before we came across a great hollow log, so weathered that once we'd crawled inside and nestled down into the grasses growing up through the bottom we could see stars shining down through cracks in the wood. There wasn't room to stretch, but we didn't need it. We were exhausted, and slept as soon as we burrowed down into the grass.

I don't know what time it was when Calla woke up choking in distress, only that it was still dark as she crawled out of the log and retched not far away, taking painfully ragged breaths as though she'd been drowning in her dreams.

I crawled out of the log shelter, but hesitated. I didn't know what to do. I couldn't make her not sick, couldn't make her not be dying. The sound of a nearby stream caught my attention, and I moved off in that direction. I couldn't make her feel better, but if she was sick, she'd want a drink of water, after, and that I could manage.

When I got back to the log Calla had already dragged herself back inside and was huddled in a shivering ball, her face buried in the grass. She took the flask when I offered it, drinking most of it down in a few long swallows before letting her head fall back to the bottom of the log and giving a quiet, miserable laugh, her voice thick and raspy. "You know any way to get rid of nightmares, priestess? Any special powers you get for worshipping daedra?"

I shifted, lying down again. "No. It doesn't work that way."

A hard shudder wracked her body, and I didn't know if it was from cold or from what she'd seen in her dreams.

"You have a lot of nightmares?"

"Every night, almost," she said, so quietly I could hardly hear. "The same things, over and over. You'd think I'd get used to it after a while but it never goes away."

I burrowed into the grass, feeling useless. "I don't know anything to help you. But when we get back to the Imperial City, I'll talk to my brother. He knows how to help with dreams."

Her voice went muzzy and slow with fatigue. "Is he a healer?"

"Yes." I yawned widely. "Priest. Of Stendarr."

She let out a sound that might have been a laugh. "Your family dinners must be fun."

The grasses were prickly but sweet-smelling and made for good insulation. When I heard her breathing go soft and slow I let my eyes drift closed and we slept until daybreak.

-oOo-

With the promise of civilization before us it wasn't hard to get an early start, shivering in our cloaks as we started down the road before the sun was even up.

We should have brought our packs, even if we didn't have much to take. Our stomachs growled, and Calla's grumbled loudly even as she stopped off every half-hour or so to be sick in the bushes at the roadside.

"This is miserable," she mumbled mid-morning, washing out her mouth with water. "I don't even _like_ kids. And I'm starving but what's the point in eating if I'm only going to throw it all up again?"

I shrugged. "We could hunt, maybe?"

She shook her head, making a face. "I'm not chasing down a deer with a…" Her hand fell to her side and she stopped cold. "Oh, _shit_. I'm not armed."

I stopped after a few steps, turning around. "We're almost to Skingrad, though. It'll be fine."

She looked horrified, not moving a step. "I haven't been unarmed in… hell. And I didn't even think about it."

"Calla." She shook herself and looked at me. "It'll be fine," I said again. "But we have to keep moving."

She fell back into step, shaking her head. "Can't believe I was that stupid. We're sitting ducks out here on the road without weapons."

I glanced at her, sidelong. "Ducks?"

Calla grimaced. "Easy targets. _Damn it_."

"Not that easy." At her doubtful look, I continued. "I'm a fair mage. And you're the Champion of Goddamned Cyrodiil, remember. Between the two of us I'm sure we can handle angry deer, or ducks, or…" I tried to think. "Whatever else it is you come across in the wilderness in Cyrodiil."

"Ogres," she said flatly. "Minotaurs. Bears and goblins. Vampires after the sun goes down."

I shuddered before I could stop myself. "Vampires?"

She nodded.

"Maybe we should stay the night in Skingrad," I ventured.

She laughed, a little grimly. "Count of Skingrad's a vampire," she said, and at my expression she laughed again. "It's true."

I wrapped my arms around myself, feeling shivery even though it was broad daylight. "Maybe we should skip Skingrad."

"You're not _scared_, are you?"

"Yes," I snapped. "Vampires scare the hell out of me."

Calla half-smiled. "Just get me a sword, and you won't have to worry. I shall protect you, fair maiden," she smirked, dropping her voice low.

"Fair maiden, ha," I grumbled. "And I said I'd protect _you_."

-oOo-

At the sight of a figure running our way with a sword drawn some half an hour later, I startled.

"I don't think that's a vampire," she began, narrowing her eyes.

I readied a spell, energy tingling in my fingers. "Khajiits can be vampires, too."

She cast me an annoyed glance. "Not in broad daylight."

The Khajiit stopped in front of us, baring his teeth and looking very pleased at the sight of us.

"Let me guess," Calla laughed sardonically before he could say anything. "My money or my life."

He smirked. "Hand it over, then."

She bared her teeth back at him. "No."

"We don't have any money," I said quickly as he raised his sword.

"Shut up, priestess." Calla narrowed her eyes at the highwayman. "Do you have any idea who the hell I am?"

No, I thought, oh no. If someone knew who we were and where we were, they could give away our location and have us dragged back to the Imperial City.

His tail twitched. "You assume this one cares."

She took a step forward, her hands balling into fists. "I'm the Hero of Kvatch. The Champion of Goddamned Cyrodiil. And you're going to wave that sword around and think you're threatening me? I've _killed_ more people than you've ever known."

Well, that was stealth definitely shot to hell.

The Khajiit grinned, not believing a word. "The Hero of Kvatch, you say? And yet you wander the woods without weapons or armor. This one thinks you are lying. And if you are _not_ lying, this one could get ransom for you if he wished." He smirked at me. "And who is this? The Princess of Akavir?"

"I'm no one," I insisted. "Look, we don't have any money or valuables, so—"

Calla cut me off. "You haven't heard? She's the priestess, the… the Emblem… something." She glanced down at me, annoyed. "What is it Baurus called you?"

"Nothing," I insisted. "Because I'm _no one_. Just let us go on our way and—"

"Emissary," Calla blurted, snapping her fingers. "The Emissary of Azura. You do not want to get in our way."

The Khajiit eyed us. "The Emissary of Azura and the Hero of Kvatch." He snorted. "This road is one Nerevarine away from a bad joke. Enough of this. If you have no gold, this one will settle for that trinket." He gestured at my necklace.

Calla took advantage of his attention being on me and almost quicker than my eyes could follow she socked him hard on the nose, flinging herself at him when he reeled backwards and fell to the ground, both of them scrambling for his sword. He was fast but she was faster, and she rolled to her feet pointing his own sword at him. "All right, you flea-bitten _housecat_," she growled. "You still want to play?"

He grimaced, his eyes darting at me. I held up my hand, showing him the ready spell glowing blue in my palm. "Don't even think about it."

"Take off that sword-belt," she ordered, waving the tip of the blade at him when he hesitated. "And give us all your gold." He glared up at her.

"Calla—"

"Shut up, priestess," she snapped without taking her eyes off the highwayman.

The Khajiit growled in the back of his throat, tossing his sword-belt and pouch of gold on the ground at Calla's feet and glaring daggers at us both. "Are you done?"

Calla craned her neck to see over his shoulder. "What's in the pack?"

He bared his teeth at her. "Lunch."

She grinned. "Yeah, we're going to need to take that, too."

Once the pack was on the ground and she'd let him walk away—slowly, and with his hands where she could see them—she strapped the sword-belt around her hips.

"You're an Imperial," I reminded her, a little irritated. "You're supposed to be able to talk your way out of things like this without having to shake down bandits."

She looked at me blankly.

"Diplomacy. Tact. _Subtlety_."

Calla snorted.

"Do those words mean anything to you?" I demanded.

"I don't need diplomacy," she said, grinning widely. "I have a sword."

-oOo-

Three times that day we ducked into the trees at the side of the road at the sound of hoofbeats pounding the dirt, and we peeked out from between the branches to get a look at the riders tearing their way down the road toward Skingrad.

"Is that a Blade?" I asked Calla at the sight of the third one disappearing into the distance on a lathered black horse.

"Not one I ever met," she muttered, frowning. "And not paying a damned bit of attention to his surroundings, either. If they're trying to find us they're doing a poor job of it."

"I'm surprised we haven't been caught already," I admitted as we walked back out to the road. "We can't be that hard to track."

The possibilities tumbled through my mind: either we'd been let go, which seemed unlikely given Calla's previous confinement, or they had bigger things to deal with than a couple of errant runaways, or we were being tracked and just didn't know it yet.

I'd thought we'd make Skingrad by noon, but Calla had to stop and rest often, rings appearing under her eyes like bruises as we kept on. It was closer to mid-afternoon when the walls of Skingrad loomed close, and we quickened our pace, relieved.

Still, at the sight of the sprig of moonflower lying in the middle of the road, I stopped short.

Calla walked on a few paces before she realized I had fallen behind. "What? We're picking flowers now?"

"No." I glanced around, but didn't see anyone. "Alain..." A bush rustled off to my left and Calla had her sword in her hand in an instant, but I held up a hand. "Hold on."

Cloaked in green and almost invisible in the undergrowth, Alain stood and walked out to the road, pushing back his hood and running his eyes over Calla, looking amused. "I'd heard that you'd made some interesting new friends. I thought it was a fluke, at first." He turned to me, smirking. "Very influential new friends, too. How intriguing."

Calla scowled. "Priestess, who is this idiot?"

"My uncle," I said shortly, feeling deeply uneasy and not liking the way Alain's smile didn't reach his eyes. "Thought I wasn't going to see you around."

He shrugged, spreading his hands expansively. "Change of plans. I'm not allowed to watch over my niece?"

"I'm touched," I said carefully.

Another smile. "Don't be. I always wondered if the scent of home would lure you in someday."

I was about to ask _home? _when he pointed a finger north. Through the trees I could barely see an old, weathered door set into the hillside, and all around it moonflower vine grew in riotous profusion.

I didn't have to ask what was behind the door. Home. I shivered before I could stop myself.

"Look, we're in a hurry, here," Calla began impatiently.

Alain held up his hands. "I won't keep you. I merely wanted to see for myself that you were well." He took a step forward, putting his hands on my shoulders and under the guise of kissing my cheek whispered, "_Stay away from your mother_."

My blood ran cold.

When he pulled away he smiled as pleasantly as if he'd never said anything, bowing a little before he walked away down the road.

"Come on," Calla said, frowning as she watched him go. "Let's get into town. You said your mother lives here?"

"Yes, she does," I said absently. _And_ _I think I need to see her, _now_._

I was still brooding over Alain's warning when we stepped inside my mother's shop, breathing in the familiar smells of books and ectoplasm as the spell keeping us invisible ran its course. Upstairs, a baby fussed and fretted, and at the sound of the closing door my mother called, "Just a moment!"

"It's me, Mother," I called back. "No hurry."

"Oh!" I could hear the laugh in her voice. "In that case."

There was the sound of footsteps, light and quick on the stairs. "Here," she told Calla, depositing a very grumpy and very naked baby Cedric into her arms. "Hold him a second, would you?" Before Calla could protest my mother had pulled me into a fierce hug. "I'm so glad you've come. And you've got your voice back, too. Thanks, lamb, I'll take him," she said to Calla, who only looked bewildered.

I wanted to laugh. Calla, a _lamb?_

"He keeps wiggling out of his diaper," Mother explained, pulling Cedric back into her arms. "Screams like a demon every time I try to put it back on him." Cedric didn't so much look like a demon as a chubby, white-haired tomato, red-faced from howling and clenching his fingers in my mother's shirt.

My mother was still smiling as she cast a quick spell, breaking into a grin after a moment as her eyes drifted to my belly. "So it's true, then. About damned time, my girl."

I blinked. "Who told you?"

"Alain." I stared, wondering how he knew, when my mother shifted Cedric in her arms and looked at Calla. "You'd be the Hero of Kvatch, I imagine. The guard seemed to think you two would be darkening my doorstep today. I was told to report in the very moment I caught sight of you."

Calla frowned. "Are you going to?"

Mother huffed a laugh. "Not hardly. If they want you, they can find you themselves. For now, you're under my roof, and welcome. Are you hungry?"

With a quick meal on the table and water boiling in her kettle, my mother smiled at me over the rim of her cup. "It's that Imperial, isn't it? The Nerevarine."

I nodded, unable to talk around a mouthful of food.

She laughed a little. "As short as you are and as tall as he is, that baby's going to have nowhere to go but out. Come summer you're going to look like a pumpkin with feet."

I swallowed. "Pumpkin?"

Calla coughed. "_Baby?_"

I shrugged and mumbled, "I was stupid enough to get knocked up by accident."

She flushed abruptly, embarrassed. "Oh, hell. I didn't mean…" She trailed off, frowning, looking uneasy and swallowing hard. Her hands fell to the table and her expression went distant. "Priestess, do you believe in coincidence?"

"I try." I ripped off a piece of bread with a little more force than was strictly necessary. "I try really, really hard."

Mother watched Calla thoughtfully. "You look very tired. Do you need to rest?"

Calla did look unwell, but she shook her head. "We've got to keep on."

My mother glanced at me, a small crease between her brows. "Where are you heading?"

Calla hesitated a moment before mumbling into her tea, "Kvatch."

"Hmm." Mother tapped a finger on the rim of her cup, thinking. "It'll be dark in an hour. If you wanted to overnight here…" Calla looked up. "You'd be welcome to stay. And you could take my horse to Kvatch in the morning," my mother finished. "The both of you look like you could use a couple of decent meals and a warm bed."

It was tempting. "It's up to you," I said when Calla glanced at me questioningly.

Calla thought about it. "We'd make it there about the same time either way, I think. And if you're sure…"

My mother nodded.

Calla gave a weak smile. "You said something about a warm bed?"

-oOo-

Sleep without dreams. It nagged at me until I remembered that I'd read about a potion for it in the Book, and it only took a quiet word to my mother before she set me to work at it. She rocked Cedric in a nearby chair, chatting and giving instructions from memory, correcting the angle of my knife and the amount of water I used as night began to deepen outside.

She was far more pleased than I'd have expected over the baby, and even more pleased when I told her I couldn't take one back to the temple. Some things never change, I suppose.

"You could always come live with me, if things don't work out with Darius," she offered. "You've still got the knack of this. You can help me run the shop."

I tried to think of the most diplomatic way to say _no, never, but thank you for the offer_. "I'll think about it," I said instead.

We were quiet for a little while, then, and after Cedric dozed off open-mouthed and snoring she took him upstairs to bed. I didn't hear her come back down until she tucked a wisp of hair behind my ear, watching me pulverize pearl dust.

"Alain told me to stay away from you," I told her.

She stiffened. "Did he?" At my nod, her expression darkened. "When did you see him?"

"This afternoon. On the road, just outside the city. Why would he say that?"

She was silent, taking up a dishcloth and wiping away traces of discarded greens.

An uncomfortable thought occurred to me, hours too late. "I haven't put you in danger, have I?"

"No," she assured me quickly. "Not you. You were right to come." She scrubbed at a stubborn bit of residue. "Did he say anything else?"

I thought back. "How interesting it was that I'd made influential friends. And that he thought the scent of home might lure me in someday."

She scowled and opened her mouth to say something but was cut off by three sharp raps on the door. "Watch, that'll be him," she sighed. "Answer it, would you? Let's see what he does."

I wiped my hands on a cloth and opened the door.

It wasn't Alain. Instead, the dark man from Cheydinhal stood in the doorway, looking like murder on two legs.

"_Alora_." At my mother's whiplash reprimand, the spell that had come roaring unbidden to my fingertips stalled. "Go upstairs." Her hands curled around her little knife absently, but her expression was utterly unafraid. "Go on up and shut the door. We'll speak more later."

With one last, hesitant glance from the man to my mother, I obeyed, and neither of them moved or said a word until I was upstairs with the door shut behind me and a thousand questions springing to life on my lips.


	46. Chapter 46

How long I waited on the other side of that bedroom door, I couldn't have said. The conversation below was so quiet I couldn't make out a single word, merely the murmur of voices: my mother's, light and familiar, and the man's, darker and lower. I waited, my mind screaming with tension for a cry of alarm, for a shout of anger, for an abrupt, sickening silence. It never came.

Instead I heard the voices dwindle, and as silently as I could I cracked the door open, peeking out to see what was going on.

They were standing together, talking quietly. I wasn't expecting something so normal. She murmured something to him I couldn't hear before he turned to go, glancing up at me with a look of annoyance as he closed the door behind him.

"Come back down, love."

My mother stared into the depths of a teacup, pensive and troubled and not glancing up as I padded downstairs.

"Are you all right?"

The question seemed to bring her around. She considered it as if tasting the words, feeling the shape of them in her mouth. "I'm fine. It's Alain that's in it up to his neck."

When nothing else seemed to be forthcoming, I pressed, "What's going on?"

My mother scowled at her cup. "What's going on is that Alain isn't as clever as he thinks he is. And brother or no, I'm not letting his plots threaten me or my children." She set her cup aside, pushing it away and looking over at me. "If you see him before I do, tell him there's still time to stop this. Don't aid him under any circumstances. And if he asks you for anything, even so much as the time of day, refuse."

I thought about it. "So who is…" At her expectant glance, I gestured uselessly at the door. "He. Him."

She grimaced. "The bane of my existence. Since I was a little girl he's been the bane of my damned existence." She huffed a half-disgusted laugh. "I used to wipe his miserable little bottom and he still comes storming in here treating me like I don't know which end of a knife to hold. _Brat_."

I didn't know what to say to that and before I could come up with any more questions, Cedric began to cry. "Well," she sighed. "Duty calls. Go get some sleep, you."

I crept into the bedroom quietly, trying not to disturb Calla, but she came awake with a jerk. "Priestess. S'you." There was only the one bed, and she shuffled over, rolling onto the other side.

"Made you some potion," I told her, holding it out. "For the dreams."

As I settled into bed she cracked the seal and took a sip. "Thanks."

The bed was warm and soft, which was a blissful change from sleeping in a hollow log the night before. Even so, Calla was restless and wouldn't stop moving. "You awake?" she whispered some time later.

"No," I mumbled, half-asleep. "You need something?"

She hesitated. "I think we should go now."

_That_ woke me up. "Now?"

"The more I think about it the more I don't want to stay," she explained. "Your mother could get in trouble if the guards decide to be bastards about us being here."

I didn't like it, but she had a point. My mother didn't like it either, but that was to be expected. She threatened to paralyze us both if we didn't wait long enough to get some supplies together, and grumbled as she tucked potions and food into a knapsack and filled up my little flask.

"Thank you," I told her quietly. "I know this has been… strange."

She pursed her lips. "Just be careful. You're not getting sick too much, are you?"

I shook my head. "Not too bad. Calla's…" I froze, realizing what I'd almost said. "She's making sure we rest enough," I corrected, not nearly as smoothly as I'd like.

It was a mercy that Mother was too tired to catch the blatant lie. "Here." She poured leaves into a paper envelope. "Make a tea from this if it gets bad, it'll help. And take my horse. She's the only white one in the stable."

I nodded.

Even red-eyed and sleep-tousled, my mother was lovely when she smiled. "Your Nerevarine's going to chain you to the wall when you get back, I think. I don't blame him."

I gave a tired laugh. "At this point, I think I'd let him."

She smirked faintly, for just a moment. "I'm sure you would. Be careful. And tell Brennan to get out here if he can."

We had no trouble getting to the stable, or getting the horse to the road. A bank of clouds had rolled across the night sky, and the moons and stars were hidden, making me uneasy. A few times the mare shied away from things at the roadside we couldn't see. It was faster than walking, but I kept half-dozing off at the reins, and when I wasn't jerking awake I was seeing things in the grasses, all the shadows unfamiliar.

When the first faint beginnings of dawn began to creep across the horizon behind us we ran into the first of a pair of bandit camps, and Calla kicked the mare into a gallop as we were pursued, first by dogs and then by the bandits themselves. I was rocked nearly off the mare's back by the motion of her running over the uneven terrain. An arrow whizzed by; two.

"Keep your head down!" Calla barked. I did, almost flattened between the mare's withers and Calla's body as I looked back toward the archer. I tried to compensate for the distance and the gait of the horse, and when I cast, the spell shot down the road behind us in a long, loud crack.

The mare spooked and leapt forward, Calla shouted, and the archer died, falling to the road.

Then came the wolves. They seemed to come from everywhere, running and diving at the horse's flanks as she squealed in terror. Calla hunched low over the mare's neck, forcing me almost flat as she urged our mount on, trying to outrun the pack of beasts at our heels. The little mare was swift but it had been a long night's journey and she was carrying two riders. I wove spells together, the magicka snaking down my veins and out through my hands, lightning finding wolf after wolf until the rest broke off and ran away.

The mare's breathing sounded wheezy and we pulled her to a walk, and after a while Calla pulled off the road and headed up a winding trail. From there I could see the sun begin to rise as we rode into what looked like an abandoned camp. "Here," Calla said at last, sounding like she was about to drop from exhaustion. "We'll stop here."

I looked around. "I thought Kvatch would be bigger."

"This is the refugee camp. _That's_ Kvatch." She pointed up the hill. "We'll go into town… later. I've got to sleep." She looked troubled.

I shouldered the knapsack when I slid off the mare. "Are you going to be all right here?"

She gazed up the hill, looking oddly defeated and sick. "I don't know that I'm ready for this."

After a moment's deliberation we settled into a large tent, even bringing the horse inside (which seemed like a bad idea, but Calla insisted). The thin bedroll inside was nowhere near as comfortable as the bed in my mother's house had been but at that point I didn't care. We went to sleep as the sun came up, with Kvatch looming above us like a tomb.

-oOo-

"Priestess, wake up," Calla whispered. I opened my eyes, blinking at the diffused light streaming in through the weave of the canvas, wondering for a moment where I was before Calla's hand came over my mouth and she hissed, "Shh. Listen."

I'd have slept right through it, but I could hear it now: hoofbeats on the path and men's voices, coming closer.

We waited long, tense minutes in silence. I wondered who it was and why they were climbing the path to Kvatch, wondered if we'd finally been caught. The mare nosed at Calla's hair and Calla reached up to stroke her face, whispering barely audible shushes.

The mare stayed quiet.

It felt like a long time before the riders moved on, and when the voices began to trail off up the hill, Calla peeked out the flap of the tent. "Legion," she murmured. "But I don't know why the Legion would be at Kvatch. No one's supposed to come back until spring."

On my belly on the ground beside her, I peered out the cracked flap at the riders' disappearing backs. "Why?"

She let the flap fall. "They're going to start rebuilding in the spring. But until then, there's no one here. And nothing left for thieves to take. Don't know why the Legion would send a patrol to an abandoned city." She frowned at the tent-flap, not liking the situation.

"Do you think they might be looking for us?"

Calla dragged the knapsack over, rummaging inside. "If they are, they're not looking very hard." She pulled out an apple and let it rest in her palm, looking at it dully. "I don't think I can do this."

She looked ten years older than she had when we'd left the Imperial City, haggard and weary with circles under her eyes the pulpy purple of bruised fruit. The bones of her shoulders seemed prominent even under her cloak, the long muscles of her arms gone thin. It was like she was withering right before my eyes. "Don't think you can eat breakfast?" I asked. "Or go into Kvatch?"

She shook her head and let the apple drop to the bedroll. "I didn't used to be like this," she said, and it sounded like an argument but I wasn't arguing. "I never thought I'd get to be so fetching _pathetic_."

_You're not_, I wanted to say, but she'd think the words were empty. "What happened?" I asked instead.

Her hollow laugh shook her chest. "Take your pick. Prison. Oblivion. Martin." That last was nearly a snarl, choked with pain.

I picked up the apple she'd discarded, cutting it in half and offering a section to the mare, who lipped it off my palm in a brush of her velvety nose. Calla still didn't move or look up. "Were you in love with him?" I asked.

Her head snapped up and she blinked at me. "Fetching hell, priestess."

I shrugged. "If it's none of my business, say so. But I can't read minds."

She laughed roughly. "You know what? I think I was, some. I think I really would have been." She plucked the apple half out of my hands and took a bite, chewing thoughtfully. "For all the good it did." She grimaced, sneering at memories. "I was never going to forgive him for Kvatch. And he was never going to forgive me for… hell, all sorts of things. So we weren't very nice to each other."

The mare stepped close, leaning down and nipping Calla's apple cleanly out of her hand and snuffling for more, but she pushed the horse away. "Greedy beast."

"It must have worked anyway, though," I told her. "You saved the world."

She conceded that with a thoughtful noise. "Still, though. Like we didn't have enough problems with the Mythic Dawn and Oblivion gates everywhere, you know? We had to be bastards to each other on top of everything else. Only even _sort_ of…" She scowled, looking bleak. "But he wouldn't have wanted me to have his damned _kid_, that's for sure."

_Damn_. She'd looked better there for a second, but she was already retreating back into worry and pain. "Come on." I stood up. "Kvatch isn't going to come to us. Let's get up there while there's still daylight to do it."

Calla looked doubtful. "Did you miss me saying that I don't think I can do this? I can say it again."

"No." I took hold of her hands and pulled, steadying her when she swayed getting up. "I didn't miss it. But you can do it."

That odd, defeated look was creeping back into her eyes.

"I'm a priestess," I added as I pushed the tent flap open, dragging her out into the daylight after me and ignoring her look of pained reluctance. "I know things."

We didn't stick to the winding path up the hill, wary of the riders who'd come by. Calla led me up another way, steeper and rockier with no discernible path to it but which she seemed to know by heart, never missing a step. At the top of the hill we hid behind a boulder, peering out at the pair of young riders who'd settled rather noisily into position at the city gates.

Calla wrinkled her nose, watching them. "It really does look like they're waiting for us, doesn't it?"

I didn't see any other reason they'd stake themselves out the way they had. "Looks like it."

She frowned irritation. "These guys are _idiots_, though. They didn't check the tents, they're making seven kinds of racket and they're waiting at the city gates. Do they expect us to just walk up and hand ourselves over?"

I shrugged, ducking back behind the boulder when one of the men walked a little ways our direction to relieve himself on the city wall. "They probably do."

She snorted in quiet scorn. "Fetching amateurs. Who _sent_ these guys?"

I didn't have an answer to that. Still, I didn't know that I could get us through the gates undetected. "Is there another way into Kvatch besides the gate?"

Calla looked at me, irritated and incredulous. "You mean besides the gaping holes in the city wall where the Daedric siege engine tore through?"

_Don't get huffy with me_, I thought. _I didn't do it_. Instead of saying it, I shrugged. "Not if those will work."

-oOo-

It wasn't much of a surprise that Kvatch was haunted.

Nothing seemed to be particularly hostile, or even paying us any attention. The only signs that Calla and I weren't alone were transparent, silvery figures that seemed to disappear when we tried to look at them directly, traces of magicka like spider webs hanging in the air marking out the boundaries of where people had lived and died before Oblivion had come and taken them all.

We walked through the ruins of her home city, over charred lumber and the bones of daedra. Buildings had fallen down haphazardly; rubble was everywhere and no effort had been made yet to clear it. The cobblestones had been torn up in places, buckled and scattered as though the ground itself had risen up and rebelled against the attack.

Calla talked as we made our way around, about who had lived over in that house, about throwing coins down that well for luck, about spitting over the side of the castle bridge when the guards weren't looking. Her eyes seemed not to settle on anything, the ash or the buildings or the scattered remnants of people's lives. Finally she stopped, glancing in my general direction and looking unexpectedly guilty.

My heart ached for her sake. "You don't have to do this. We didn't come here for me."

Calla nodded automatically, still not looking at anything. "I know." She bit briefly at her thumbnail and muttered something I couldn't hear.

The longer we stayed the sicker and more hopeless Calla looked, not just bleak but utterly ruined, as though she'd died the day the city was attacked and was just another of Kvatch's ghosts. She gnawed at her bottom lip, shoulders slumped and kicking again at the grayish dust of the ground.

"It's sunset," I said finally, holding onto what had once been a street lantern. "Do you want to watch it with me?"

After a moment's hesitation, she nodded. We crawled over the broken wall and out of the city, resting our backs against the stone as we sat and watched the sun go down. Kvatch was up higher than I'd thought at first—more mountain than hill—and from here we could see what felt like a hundred miles, land rolling off into the distance, dotted with trees and the tall yellow grass. It was eerie with the ruin of the great city behind us and the wilderness in front of us, with no sound except the whisper of wind and our own quiet breathing.

Calla didn't so much as watch the sunset as she stared vacantly at the horizon. Beside her, I felt more useless than I ever had. Against anything that could have attacked us, I would have defended her, but she was the battleground, it was her heart and soul and life at stake, and there was nothing to fight.

How could you fight a war you couldn't see, when the final blow had already been struck months before?

Calla caught me watching her and tried to smile but the gesture twisted and died on her lips. "I'm sorry, priestess. I don't…" She hesitated. "I don't really know what to do." She rubbed at her face. "I felt like I had to come, like I needed to be home, but now that I'm here I don't know _why_. Everything's just as dead as it was the last time I was here, and…" She swallowed hard. "I was hoping for a sign. For anything. There's nothing here but ghosts." She gave a miserable, strangled laugh, watching her fingers clench as though her hands weren't really hers anymore. "I shouldn't have dragged you out here. I don't know what to do."

"I don't either," I admitted. "But we'll figure it out."

From the look on her face, she didn't believe me. We sat until the sun dipped below the horizon and the stars began to shine, and Calla said, "Come on, priestess. Whatever I'm looking for isn't out here."

I followed her back into the city, clambering over rubble and stone. "Do you know what you're looking for?"

She shrugged a little, her shoulders looser than they had been. "Not exactly. But… well. Sigil stones. Welkynd stones. The armor of a god. If pattern holds, I'll know it when I see it."

We walked together in quiet through the town again, and in and out of the abandoned castle. We climbed over the rubble where the arena had been, through the neighborhood where her friends had lived. We wound down every street, behind every house, looking for whatever it was Calla had been called here for.

She ran her fingers over everything, leaving trails in the dust and ash, exploring the broken bits of what her home had become. A few times she hesitated, seeming to listen for something, but never stayed still too long. She roved over the street with the same hunter's look she'd given Darius, watchful and full of purpose. Even so, she didn't seem to find what she was looking for until we came full circle, stopping in front of the city gates as she sighed.

I bit at the inside of my mouth, thinking. "The chapel, maybe? It's the only place we haven't been."

Calla grimaced. "I know. I'd…" She trailed off, looking at the broken steeple. "I'd hoped not to have to go in there."

"Why not?"

She was quiet a moment. "It's where I met Martin. The first time, and then later, again. And I don't feel very faithful right now, you know?" But she rolled her neck from side to side anyway as if preparing for a fight. "But you're right, it's the only place we haven't looked yet. Let's hope I'm not struck dead the minute I walk in, right?"

She wasn't, of course, though she did tense a little walking through the doors as though she was expecting something. The inside of the chapel was still intact for the most part, though rain had washed in from the base of the toppled spire and mosses had begun to grow between the stones of the floor. It was the only place in Kvatch that didn't smell like ashes.

Calla roamed around and I thumbed through a book that someone had left on a bench, a dirty but intact volume about the worship of Akatosh that I'd never read before. I cast a tiny light spell and sank to the bench, flipping the warped pages carefully. For long minutes, the only sounds were the rustling of pages and Calla's footsteps echoing through the chapel as she walked, staring up at the impassive stained-glass images of the Divines.

The book was old, with words of praise written in beautiful script across the pages. It spoke of that which carries on unbroken, though the path is long. Of things and of One who was vast and endless and undying.

Calla had stopped.

I looked up when I realized it, not knowing how long she'd been still. I hesitated a moment in confusion when I saw her standing in place, her face upturned to a beam of light that made her seem to glow.

I opened my mouth to speak before my light spell died and I realized: it was night, it was dark, and the light wasn't coming from any lamp or torch. It bathed her in gold, her face softened into a look of peace. I felt the brush of presence at the same time the hairs on the back of my neck stood up. Something else was here, something real and vast and holy.

She'd found what she'd come for.

I was intruding, I realized belatedly. I was witnessing something not for the eyes of someone like me. As silently as I could I set the book aside and crept out the door of the chapel, settling down on the steps to wait beneath the silent, watchful stars.


	47. Chapter 47

I waited three hours for Calla to emerge, sitting on the chapel steps watching my breath turn white. I had waited longer at a time back at the temple, but it was colder in Kvatch, and when it became too uncomfortable I pushed to my feet, stiff and shivering. Walking around the courtyard and rubbing my arms got my blood moving again, but it only helped a little.

I crept over to the nearest gap in the city wall, climbing out to check on the men we'd seen earlier. Resting with their backs against the great stones of the gateway hadn't been the best of ideas, apparently. They were both asleep, one of them snoring softly.

Not far from the city gate was the remnant of a different type of gate altogether, wickedly pointed and black in the moonlight. I walked over, curious, kneeling in the dirt beside it and running my fingers absently over a blade of bloodgrass. Plants from the planes of Oblivion were supposed to be notoriously difficult to eradicate. I glanced back to the wall and saw no sign of Calla.

With nothing else to do, I bent to work. Being careful not to cut myself, I twisted each blade of bloodgrass off at the ground and tucked them into my pockets. It was almost impossible to get bloodgrass this fresh, and my mother had tolerated a fair bit of strangeness for my sake. The least I could do was give her something in return when we headed back her direction.

Still, even with the leaves torn off at ground level, the plant would come back. I didn't know how disheartening it would be for the people of Kvatch to return home and find reminders of Oblivion still looming outside the city gates, and I didn't know if it would work, but in some ways the bloodgrass wasn't too dissimilar from the plants that grew in the ashlands: resilient, tough things meant to survive ash and heat and very little water. When we had to get rid of them, we killed them with ice.

I cupped a hand over the remains of the plant, murmuring a frost spell and reaching out with it, sending creeping tendrils of frost down the roots of the plant as it froze. It blackened, withering in place, shrinking in on itself until I could pull the whole thing up out of the ground in a shriveled mass and toss it away.

It was easier than I'd expected. With a glance at the men to make sure they were still sleeping, I set to work on the rest of the plants from Oblivion, killing them one by one and pulling them from the ground.

At the temple I had gardened sometimes when I couldn't sleep, pulling weeds by moonlight and enjoying the solitude. I couldn't do much for Kvatch—I couldn't change history, I couldn't rebuild the city—but I could do this one small thing to help take back the land. When the bloodgrass was gone all that was left was the gate itself, the moonlight glinting off its spikes. Whatever it was made of was incredibly hard and had no weaknesses I could see. Perhaps a battlemage could have destroyed it directly, but I didn't have anywhere near the skill for that.

An indirect approach, then. I knelt very close to the base of the ruined gate, whispering another spell. I reached out with it again, feeling my way along cracks near the bottom the gate where it hadn't quite fused with the ground, where it was weak. I poured frost into the fissures, ice slowly building up layer by layer until it grew and widened the breaches, shifting the gate the slightest bit. Encouraged, I set to it again, ribbons of ice growing thicker beneath the ground, uprooting the gate a tiny fraction at a time. I don't know how long it took but the gate began to creak, and with another glance at the sleeping men by the city gate I gave a final effort, concentrating the spell in a single point and pushing with all the force I could command.

"Here." I hadn't even heard Calla approach but she was there beside me, throwing her weight against one of the spikes and pushing with all her strength. "Get the other one, it's almost out."

I braced myself against the other spike, pushing for all I was worth, digging my heels into the dirt to get enough leverage. Between the two of us, it was enough. After a moment it budged that last little bit and came free of the ground with a long, groaning creak before it crashed to the ground like a falling mountain. I cast a spell out of instinct to hide us from the soldiers at the gate, who were now wide awake and getting to their feet as quickly as they could. Calla fumbled where she knew I was and caught my hand, and I followed her breathlessly when she pulled and led me down the mountain.

Behind a cluster of boulders some distance away, she stopped, catching her breath. "That was good thinking. No one's going to want to look at that thing when they come home."

I nodded, leaning over to rest. The effort of sustaining those spells had been more draining than I'd realized. "They should be able to drag it off now, I think."

She smiled, looking calmer than I'd seen in… ever. "It's good to have it gone. Symbolic, you know?"

I nodded agreement. Now that I knew it worked, I'd have to try it at Ald'ruhn. I wondered if they'd ever rebuild. I hoped so.

"Come on," she said, giving me a nudge. "Let's get going. We're done here."

Though I wondered what exactly had happened in the chapel she didn't seem to be in any hurry to explain. I followed her down the rest of the mountain, and once we were back at the tents we collected the dozing mare and led her out to the dark road, walking east in companionable silence. Nothing disturbed us, not bandits, not wolves, not so much as an angry butterfly.

It was very late when we stopped, sheltering in a thick stand of trees and sleeping until midmorning the next day. We woke like a pair of wood-fairies, with dried leaves in our hair and dappled sunlight filtering through the boughs above us, and instead of returning to the road we let the mare graze for a while, in no particular hurry to get back.

It was a little unreal, I suppose. We'd escaped the city, we'd traveled to Kvatch and not been caught, and even if we were caught now, it didn't matter. We had done what we'd set out to do.

Calla was nearly transformed. The circles under her eyes had vanished and with them, her lingering sense of despair. She was still thin but didn't look nearly so frail anymore and I could hardly keep up with her long, easy strides. She found a bed of clover and pulled clumps of it, holding it out teasingly to the mare to lead her along. I had never seen her so relaxed.

I very much wondered what had happened in that chapel.

Calla led the mare as we ambled down the road, as I picked flowers and collected what ingredients grew on the roadside, tucking them away in my pack to give to my mother. She told me stories as we walked, about how she'd kept getting caught up in the most bizarre circumstances while trying to get Martin to the throne: about a group of women in Anvil who'd thought she was a boy and tried to seduce and rob her, about renting a room on a floating inn to find it hijacked when she woke up, about second-guessing her decision to join the Blades when she discovered how much time in the sewers it might require. About how she'd gone all over Cyrodiil to try and find a Daedric artifact only to discover that the Daedra can be… finicky.

"Finally got one from Azura, actually," she said, dangling the reins in her fingers loosely. "Should have gone there in the first place. Martin suggested it."

"Why didn't you?" I tucked alkanet flowers into a pocket of the pack, careful not to bruise the soft petals.

She grinned. "Because it was Martin's idea, and I wanted to piss him off."

There was none of the anger of before when she said his name. I didn't know what to make of that. "So what happened?"

The wind ruffled her short hair as she smiled, amused by the memories. "Headed down to Meridia's shrine. Not far from here, actually. But on the way there I ran into Sanguine's shrine and figured that since I was there, might as well, right?"

"Might as well get involved with the Daedric Prince of debauchery? On a lark?"

She shrugged, her affected look of chagrin completely ruined by the mischief twinkling in her eyes. "In hindsight, yeah. Not the best of ideas. Seemed all right at the time, though. Told me to go to Leyawiin, play a prank, and we'd be done. Seemed harmless enough."

I fought the urge to roll my eyes. "It always seems harmless enough when it comes to Daedra."

Calla cut me a wry glance. "So says the daedra worshipper."

That stopped me rather short. "Point," I admitted.

She snorted. "So I head down to Leyawiin—which is a hell of a long ride, let me tell you—and on the way I hear about this shrine to Sheogorath which is somewhere around there."

"This just keeps getting better," I mumbled, a little incredulous.

Calla grinned. "You haven't even heard it all yet." She swallowed, a little thickly. "So I find the shrine, and I manage to get everything I need, though why the hell he'd want yarn I don't know. Never saw the Madgod as much of a knitter, right? So anyway I stand there for a whole day trying to give him his damned lettuce and yarn and all the while his followers are trying to put bugs down my shirt, one of them cut off part of my hair and ate it, and one of them was standing on this tiny little crate threatening to jump and kill herself. Damned thing couldn't have been more than a foot off the ground. But Sheogorath never takes the stupid offering. So finally I give up and go to Leyawiin."

I looked at the underside of a tree fungus, but it wasn't worth picking. "What happened in Leyawiin?"

She shook her head, remembering. "Sanguine had me go to a dinner party at the castle. I had to wear a dress."

I feigned horror. "Oh, no. How did you manage?"

"Shut up," she laughed. "You want me to finish or not? So I get to the party and I'm nervous as hell because I have to cast a spell on the Countess. And I don't know what it's going to do, but I've got to have the damned artifact, so I finally just think 'hell with it' and cast. And the next thing I know, everyone in the room is stark naked and screaming. Including me." Color rose into her cheeks as she grinned. "So the guards run in and everyone's fighting over the tablecloth to cover themselves with, and I've seen a lot more of stuffy old nobles than I'd ever wanted to see. And they tell me I'm under arrest. But instead of just giving up and going to jail, I make a run for it, like an idiot."

"Oh, Calla," I managed, unable to stop myself from laughing.

"So here's all the high society of Leyawiin crying because their bits and pieces are cold, and the Countess in tears because now it's obvious to half the city that she stuffs her bodice, and me running stark naked through the streets of Leyawiin with a dozen guards at my back, and it's just… it wasn't one of my most dignified days, you know? And I'm officially banned from Leyawiin forever now. No loss."

I couldn't answer; I was laughing too hard.

"So I get out of the city gates," Calla continued, "and hop on the first horse I can find, which happens to be a Legion horse, and the Legionnaire is pissed as hell and starts chasing me. And keep in mind that I'm still stark naked at this point on a galloping horse which is really fetching uncomfortable."

"Oh gods," I managed, gasping a bit.

"Yeah, I don't think the gods had anything to do with it," she pointed out. "But some ways out of Leyawiin I've got to have a break because I'm getting a rash in places no woman should have rashes, and so I get off, stretch for a minute, and the damned Legion horse takes off at a gallop back to Leyawiin. So I'm naked, and unarmed, and in the middle of godsdamned nowhere on foot with a bounty on my head and the Legion out for my blood. And then these minotaurs burst out of the woods and start chasing me."

"Minotaurs?"

"Big ugly things," she explained. "Like an upright bull and hard as all hell to kill. So they start chasing me and I see this white horse just standing there and I sprint over to it, hop on its back and take off hell-for-leather back toward Sanguine's shrine. Only as soon as we lose the minotaurs I realize it's not a fetching horse, it's a goddamned _unicorn_. But it's the fastest thing I'd ever ridden and I was not stopping again, and so I ride in sometime the next morning to Sanguine's shrine stark naked, sore as hell, wanted by the law and on the back of a living symbol of purity and virtue."

I laughed helplessly. "Oh gods."

"That's not even the worst of it!" Her face was completely pink. "After all that I limped up to the shrine and I demand my artifact and the bastard says 'Tell Martin no one walks away from a Daedra Lord.' And that's it. All of that and no artifact, nothing. So at that point I just say 'Hell with this, let's go chat with Azura.'"

"What did Azura have you do?"

She shrugged. "Kill five vampires in a cave. Took me half a day. Should have done that in the first place. It would have saved me a week of travel and my goddamn dignity."

"But then you wouldn't have such interesting stories to tell," I pointed out.

"Stories which you will never repeat," she insisted, laughing. "Ever. Especially not to Jauffre because he would _die_."

-oOo-

We made camp that night not far off the road, spearing bits of apple on sticks and holding them over a fire I'd started. It didn't make a whole lot of difference in the flavor, but after walking so long in the wintertime, hot food felt like a luxury. We laughed when we tried to eat them, bouncing them from hand to hand to cool them off and burning our mouths on the hot juice.

"I'm not sure this is worth it," I admitted after I scalded my tongue.

She speared another apple slice. "Definitely worth it. I'd eat wood chips at this point if they were hot."

I considered her as she held her stick over the crackling little fire, the light flickering over her face. A face which, two days before, had looked haggard and worn, but now looked significantly healthier. "You're not getting sick anymore."

It seemed to startle her. "I'm not, am I? Don't jinx me," she warned, "I don't miss it."

I only rocked back on my heels, thinking. "And you're not getting tired so quickly." We hadn't had to stop nearly as much for her to catch her breath on the way back to the Imperial City as we'd had to on the trip away.

Calla didn't look at me, only watched her apple with an innocent expression. "Oh?"

"No. You're not."

She only made a noncommittal noise.

I hesitated before asking, because it wasn't really my business and she hadn't seemed too eager to talk about it. But curiosity won out. "What happened back there in the chapel? You seem… better."

She looked up and laughed softly, the firelight dancing orange over her black hair as she smiled. "Almost twenty-four hours, priestess. I'm impressed. That's got to be some new record for you minding your own business."

I speared a new apple slice. "Hey. If I'm going to face down the Wrath of Jauffre when I get back to the City I at least want to know that it was worth it."

"The Wrath of Jauffre?" She grinned, turning her stick. "I'm pretty sure I have a monopoly on that. Besides, you're not the Blade, here. You haven't defied any orders."

"Not direct orders, no," I conceded. "But I'm pretty sure stealing you out from under an armed guard and smuggling you halfway across Cyrodiil wasn't exactly on the list of things I'm allowed to do."

She grinned a little, blowing on her apple to cool it. "Probably not. But yeah, it was worth it. For me anyway. I don't know how much trouble we'll be in yet when we get back, so it's hard to call for you. Thank you," she said, suddenly serious when she looked at me. "Jauffre wouldn't have let me go. And I think going to Kvatch was the only thing in the world that could have helped me."

"You're welcome," I said automatically, watching her as she turned her attention back to her food. "So it did help, then? You're not…" I didn't want to say _dying_.

Calla shrugged. "Everything's not perfect, don't get me wrong. I'm still dying. The Xarxes was a nasty piece of work and it's been months the damned thing's had its hooks in me. But I don't feel it, now. And I think I have a little more time." Her gaze went thoughtful, turning inward. "I had it wrong, before. It wasn't anyone's fault. Well, Camoran's, yeah. But I'd been guilty, and he'd been guilty, and it wasn't our fault." She poked another stick into the fire and watched as a few glowing sparks rose up into the night. "But it doesn't matter. I might not be around long, but I got to see a little bit of what's waiting for me when I go, and I don't mind, anymore."

My throat had gone dry at the thought of her still dying. "Hero's welcome?"

She gave a quiet laugh, staring into the fire. "Try 'everyone I've ever loved.' And yeah, hero's welcome on the other side and all that. It makes it a hell of a lot less frightening," she admitted a little hoarsely. "So, yeah. Not perfect. But better. And it helps that I don't feel like I'm going to fall over and die any second, you know?"

I nodded, lost for words. Before much longer we bedded down for the night, with the horse snuffling quietly nearby and the world so still I thought I could hear the plants around us growing.

The next afternoon found us approaching the city of Skingrad. Several times we edged to the side of the road to let riders pass, thundering by on leggy black horses. At first we'd expected to be caught—there was no way to hide us _and_ the mare—but Calla frowned after the second one rode by. "I think that's a courier."

I looked. "They're in a hurry. Big news?"

"Maybe." She shrugged, turning back east. "We'll see if we can catch one if another comes by." They did, but we couldn't; the riders galloped past as if possessed, ignoring us entirely.

We found out soon enough, though. A little ways outside Skingrad I caught sight of a familiar figure, Brennan, standing near a grapevine. He seemed deep in conversation with a woman I didn't know, ignoring everything else. When we were close enough, I cupped a hand to my mouth and called, "Hey, Breton!"

He jerked to look, grinning when he saw me, and when he came my way his companion followed.

Calla looked uncertain as he approached. "Who's this?"

"My brother. Brennan. He was in the Imperial City, last I knew."

She took in the sight of him, looking a little alarmed. "I thought the baby was your brother."

"I have two. Cedric's the baby. Brennan's my twin."

His eyes twinkled as he stopped in front of us, beaming. "She's five minutes older. You'd think it gave her divine right of command from the way she acts about it. You," he told me, "are a very wanted woman. Mother sent me out to wait for you. You can't go into the city. There are guards staked all around her house ready to trap you."

I swallowed. "Lovely."

The woman at Brennan's side cleared her throat and for some reason he looked flustered and young. "Oh. Alora, this is Marie. She's a healer at the chapel of Julianos. Marie, this is my sister Alora."

Marie held out a hand, smiling. "I've heard so much about you."

_I haven't heard _anything _about you_ would be rude but I shook her proffered hand. "Glad to meet you." But not nearly as glad as Brennan was, from the way he was smiling at her.

"This is…" I trailed off, not sure how to introduce Calla.

"Calla," she supplied, still looking at Brennan oddly as the wind ruffled his hair and he ran a hand through it to push it back.

"I brought some ingredients for Mother," I told Brennan.

"I'll take them," he said quickly, pulling the pack from my shoulder. "She wanted to know when you arrived. And I can take the horse back to the stable as well. I'm supposed to see you back to the Imperial City, after. Do you mind the company?"

Calla shrugged. "No, of course not," I said.

Marie looked up at my brother, a little troubled. "Will you be coming back to Skingrad?"

"Ah." He swallowed hard, his throat bobbing up and down. "Yes. I think so."

"Oh." She hadn't stopped looking at him. "Good."

"May I see you again?" asked Brennan. "If I come—_when_, I come back to Skingrad, I mean."

Marie looked as though she might start glowing. "Yes."

When they headed back for the city, they went together, leaving Calla and I somewhat bewildered in their wake.

"You have a twin brother," she mused quietly.

"He's not normally so… distracted," I told her. "I don't think I've ever seen him like this."

Calla was still preoccupied when Brennan returned, the pack over his shoulder full to capacity and a smile on his face. "Mother says thanks for the bloodgrass. She about squealed when she saw it. And she says not to eat any apples you don't pick yourself, anymore, just in case."

I frowned, concerned. "Just in case what?"

"I'm not sure. Just told me to tell you. Where've you been, anyway? The palace was in an uproar the night you left."

We told him, briefly, about Kvatch, but left out all of the important details. For Brennan, it seemed reasonable enough that Calla would want to go home and he didn't question her. "Did you hear the news, earlier, about the Emperor?"

Calla and I shared an alarmed glance. "_What_ Emperor?" I managed.

"They've crowned him. Yesterday, I think," Brennan said carefully, kicking at the dust of the road as we walked on. "The illegitimate Septim they found in Morrowind. They're saying he's Enman's son."

Brennan knew as well as I did that he was no such thing, but he kept his eyes on the road.

"That was fast," Calla frowned.

"Cassian Septim," Brennan murmured. "Long live the Empire." He pursed his lips a scant moment before his face calmed. "The Imperial City's probably packed now. Just as well you two managed to slip out. They'll be glad to see you back, though," he said.

I didn't need to ask which _they_ he was talking about. "They weren't too worried, were they?"

He mulled it over. "Darius was, I think. He would have set off to find you if Caius hadn't stopped him. Caius was just irritated."

_Damn_. "Did they send you?"

"Sort of. They told me to head this direction and see if you showed. And when I got to Skingrad, Mother told me you'd already been there and that she expected you back, so all I had to do was wait."

The days were still short, and sunset was coming. "Should we set up camp, do you think?" I asked Calla.

She smiled a bit, faintly. "This close to Skingrad? You want to be a midnight snack for the locals?"

I didn't. We kept walking.


	48. Chapter 48

It was already dark the next evening when we made the Imperial City. Plainly-dressed and bedraggled, we didn't attract the attention of any guards, but once we were in the palace I cloaked us in invisibility spells as a matter of practicality. I'd promised to report in to Caius when I got back and I wanted to see Darius, and if I was going to have my ears blistered (or worse) for smuggling Calla away, I wanted to check in first, at least.

It wasn't far to walk, though the palace was busy. People I didn't recognize buzzed like bees on a thousand separate errands, making the corridors echo with footsteps and voices.

Still, it was the two of them that found me and not the other way around. Halfway down a long, curving hallway I heard Caius clear his throat behind me and froze. I was invisible, I thought wildly. He couldn't see me. It had to be chance. Or so I thought, until I turned and saw him standing beside Darius in identical postures of cross-armed disapproval. "Drop the spell."

_Damn_. I did, sighing as Brennan and Calla came into sight beside me, causing a minor stir in the hallway as people around us startled.

"Look, this is _all_ my fault," Calla began, stepping forward and spreading her hands in a placating gesture.

Caius was entirely unmoved. "I very much doubt that."

"But notice how we're all back, and standing here in one piece," Brennan pointed out placidly. "That should count for something."

Darius didn't look so much reproachful as he looked worried and tired, and with an irritated glance that swept over everyone else he stepped close and embraced me tightly. "You're freezing," he muttered into my hair. He relaxed a tiny bit when I put my arms around his waist. I'd missed him. I was so glad to be back with him that it made my throat hurt.

He straightened and held me by the shoulders at arm's length, looking strained. "Please tell me there was a perfectly reasonable explanation for this."

"I'm pregnant," I blurted, not really intending to say it at all.

He froze.

"That's not why I left," I continued, feeling my insides squirm at the shock in his eyes. "I left because Calla needed me to. But I couldn't tell you first because we couldn't be caught. So I'm sorry. I didn't want you to worry but I know you did."

Darius was still rigid and dropped his arms to his sides, though he hadn't breathed or blinked, and at Caius' dry chuckle I turned my head to find him looking at Darius. "Better late than never I suppose, but _gods _do you have bad timing."

"Sorry," I mumbled.

"Tact, priestess," Calla laughed softly beside me, nudging me in the ribs. "Diplomacy. _Subtlety_."

"Shut up, Calla," I said faintly.

"You're pregnant?" Brennan looked at me.

Darius finally breathed, taking a hard swallow and looking down at my body as though he expected it to have miraculously transformed. "You're…" I was afraid for a moment he might throw up on me, he looked so shaken.

"You Imperial bastard," Brennan said serenely. "I don't know what passes for honor among daedra worshippers but if you don't marry her and give that child a name I'll break your legs." The tirade was delivered with such priestly calm that it took a moment for the words to sink in, but when they did I choked.

"We're not getting married," I protested. For some reason Darius' face fell. "I haven't left the temple," I explained, beginning to worry as my words only seemed to make things worse. "And I'm not getting pushed into anything. Not for your sake," I told Brennan, frowning. "Not for anyone." I'd never seen Darius stunned for so long, and it made me nervous. "Darius, say something."

He didn't. He turned to rest his back against the wall, shaking his head as he stared down at the floor. Caius had lost his disapproving expression and watched Darius with something I would have sworn was sympathy if I didn't know better. "Might as well tell her, lad. Either you can tell her or she'll hear it from somewhere else, and it's best if it comes from you."

I looked at Darius, confused. "What's going on?"

"You picked a hell of a time to disappear," Caius said, and looked behind me at a rapidly approaching and very angry Blade. "Baurus."

"You," Baurus scowled at Calla. "Are in…"

"I'm sorry," Calla said quickly, heading him off. "I am, honestly, but look at me. _Look_ at me, Baurus."

He did, stopping short. "You don't look so bad."

"I'm not," she agreed, seizing on his diminishing anger. "We went to Kvatch, to the chapel of Akatosh. I'm… it helped. Look at me, you can see that it helped."

His eyes traced over her. "You're not even armored," he protested. "And that's not your sword."

"Got it off a robber," she explained in a rush. "But it's fine. We're fine. I didn't even really have to fight. It's not like I was alone, either; I had Alora."

Baurus turned back to Caius. "And you still say you had nothing to do with this."

"I didn't," Caius retorted. "You can say it a thousand times; it doesn't make it true."

I didn't hear Baurus' answer. Calla leaned down and whispered into my ear, "We're gonna have to make a run for it."

I felt numb watching Caius and Baurus argue, watching Darius as his thoughts turned inward and seemed to paralyze him, watching Brennan watch everything. "Where will we go?" I whispered back.

"Hijack a ship. We'll be pirates." Even without looking at her, I could hear the smile in her voice. "Between my sword and your spells we'll be the terror of the high seas. I'll split the treasure with you sixty-forty."

Pirates. I could be a pirate. "I want half," I whispered faintly.

She grinned. "Done. Jigger your little spell and get us out of… oh. There's Jauffre." All the playfulness in her voice died. "He looks really mad."

He _was_ really mad. He was also surrounded by more than a dozen palace guards and storming our direction with a murderous expression on his usually calm face.

"Hi, Jauffre," Calla offered as he approached. "Look, I'm not dead."

He wasn't amused. "Not one word," he said, jabbing a finger at her. She recoiled, looking guilty. "Not one. This one," he told the guards, gesturing at me.

Though I was confused at first, it quickly became apparent what was going on when a trio of guards caught me and shackled my wrists, and despite Calla's howls of protest and Darius snapping out of it to start roaring at the guards, and at Jauffre, and at everyone else around, there was nothing for it. For the second time in my life I was arrested in the Imperial Palace and dragged off to prison.

-oOo-

Unlike last time, I wasn't made to strip or dragged down a flight of stairs. I was taken up some three stories instead, and the cell block up here had no other prisoners in it.

Also unlike last time, I had a cellmate before the hour was out.

"Yeah, I know, I don't care," I heard Calla say. "Just let me in."

"Ma'am," the guard pleaded.

She pulled to a stop in front of my cell and winked at me. "Special request," she told him. "From your Champion. Right in here is fine."

"I can't—"

She waited, and his arguments died, and he began to fumble for his keys. When he opened the door she strolled in like it was a party, not a prison cell, and he locked her up with obvious reluctance.

I listened to his steps fade, and looked at Calla, who was grinning. "What are you doing?"

"Talking my way _into_ a prison cell," she explained. "Which is backwards, I know. First things first, though," she said. "Some old man walks through that door and starts talking about destiny and seeing you in his dreams, you tell him to stick it up his ass, got it?" I could only stare, which made her laugh. She headed for the table and took a seat. "Ah, the memories of this place. The cold stone of the walls. The smell of piss in the morning. Good times."

I watched her, still incredulous. "Is there a reason you're here?"

She poured herself a drink of water from the pitcher, a wolfish grin still playing at the side of her mouth. "There's a saying in Kvatch. Well… used to be. A good friend will get you out of prison. A really good friend will sit in your cell with you and say 'holy shit, we've got to do that again!'"

I couldn't help but laugh, even as terrible as it was. "I would do it again," I admitted. "Prison or not."

Her grin widened. "I know you would. You won't be in here long, don't worry. Darius will have you out of here before morning." She took a drink. "He's a good man, isn't he? He's probably still shouting at Jauffre."

I wondered if the question was rhetorical for a moment, but Calla was looking at me expectantly. "Yes. He's a good man. Always has been."

She looked satisfied with that answer. "He'll make a good father."

"I hope so," I murmured in response, resting my head back against the stone wall.

"He will," she said again, all confidence.

"You still haven't told me exactly why you're in prison with me when you don't have to be," I pointed out.

She folded her arms behind her head. "Wanted to talk to you in private. I have to ask for a favor."

I felt my eyebrows rise, felt my forehead wrinkle. "I'm still in prison from the last favor I did for you."

Calla grinned merrily. "This is different. This is almost guaranteed to get you no prison time at all."

"Almost guaranteed," I echoed, but it wasn't as though I could go anywhere, or not listen. "All right," I conceded finally. "I'm listening."

She laughed at some private amusement, and said, "I want you to raise my kid."

My head fell forward as I stared at her, not comprehending. "What?"

She only smiled.

"You're serious," I managed, feeling like I was trying to think through wool.

"Yeah. I am."

I snapped my mouth closed, feeling incredibly thick. What was I supposed to say to something like that? "Why?" I finally managed, sounding far more strained than I'd hoped to.

She pushed the cup lightly around the table, pensive and not looking at me. "I think it's why you're here. I think it's why I met you in the first place."

"You're _serious_," I repeated, confusion beginning to give way to disbelief. "I thought you said you wouldn't live long enough to have him. Or her."

She opened her mouth to say something and thought better of it, hesitating before she said, "Him. And before Kvatch, I wouldn't have. I think I will, now. I'm still not sure." She ran her hands through her hair in frustration, making it stick out at angles. "I know I'm not going to be around too much longer. But I think I've got long enough to have the… kid. Boy." She frowned, thinking. "You're not having twins, are you?"

I shook my head automatically, because at least this I knew. "No. Just the one."

She leaned forward to talk in a low voice, though we were the only people on the entire floor. "Listen. It works out. Only a few people know about me having a kid. And if you have two at once, no one'll think anything of it 'cause you're a twin. We can't be more than a couple weeks apart, I think, so they'll be born pretty close together. And it's like kittens, right? You're supposed to have two at once so they can keep each other company."

"I… kittens?" I groped for words, not knowing what to say or think. A flurry of thoughts and feelings raced through my head, all vying for attention at once. "Why?" I finally managed again. "Why _me?_"

Calla looked pained for a moment, a fleeting expression that passed as determination came into her eyes. "I don't want to leave this in the hands of the Blades. Of Jauffre. I want to have some say in it, and I want you to do it. It's why you're here," she pressed as I shook my head and opened my mouth to protest. "You think all this is coincidence? I don't think so. I think this is supposed to happen. With that other one on the throne…"

"Cassian," I supplied automatically, rubbing at my forehead because I was starting to get a headache. This was absurd. It was completely absurd. Wasn't it?

"Cassian," she repeated. "With him on the throne, Jauffre's going to want Martin's kid hidden away somewhere. And you're going back to Morrowind, right?"

I nodded.

"Well then, it works out." She looked more worried than her words suggested. "Look. I don't have any family left, or else I'd leave him with them. And I'm not much of a kid person but I'd want to know he was somewhere safe with people that I actually like. And I _actually like_ you. You've been… you've been a friend. You're sitting in prison right now because you helped me. And you're going to have a kid anyway…" She grimaced. "One more can't be that bad. Think about it, at least."

"I…" I groped for words, utterly at a loss. "You want me to pretend I've had twins? And pass off your child as mine? Calla… I don't look anything like you."

Her expression brightened at the thought that I was at least considering the idea. "No," she said quickly. "You don't. But Darius and I don't look too different, and… not you. But your brother. Brennan? He's close enough to Martin. Not, I mean, not _exact_ by any means. But the same height, build, coloring. If you've got a kid that looks vaguely like your brother no one's going to be surprised, right?"

I sighed, resting my head against the wall again. "You've really thought about this."

"I've _been_ thinking about this since we pushed over that gate-stone outside Kvatch," Calla answered. "And when we got to Skingrad and your brother ran over and you said you were twins…" She shrugged, lost for words for a moment. "It felt right. It felt like this was supposed to happen. Please say you'll do it."

The memory of the feeling that this wasn't a coincidence made me shudder a little, made other half-remembered things flutter at the edges of my mind. Maybe it wasn't coincidence. Maybe this was something… maybe I had been brought here for this. Stranger things had certainly happened.

I looked up at her. "It's not just me, you know that. This would affect Darius, too. I can't say yes without talking to him." _Of course, that's just assuming that we're actually going to stay together and he doesn't run for the hills at the prospect of fatherhood. _The memory of his expression from earlier gnawed at my insides.

I could do it alone, though, if I had to. I'd lived in the ashlands; I'd survived Oblivion. I could do this.

She watched me for a minute, leaning her elbows on the table. "But if it _was_ up to you…?"

I tried to think. On one level, it seemed ridiculous. She hardly knew me. I hardly knew her. Only that wasn't quite true, not when it came down to it. _Is this what I'm supposed to do?_ I prayed silently. Something jangled quietly along the thread in my mind, a wordless impression of mild, faraway amusement. But no answers.

"If it were up to me, I'd do it," I said, surprising us both. "But I can't say yes without talking to Darius first."

She grinned, obviously relieved. "That's fine."

"Jauffre isn't going to be happy about it," I warned, immediately wondering if I'd just jumped in over my head again. "He's the one who got me locked up in the first place, remember."

She inclined her head a bit, faintly triumphant. "You deal with Darius. Let me deal with Jauffre."

It was some hours later when the door opened again, and at the sound of it I sat up off the bedroll with a jerk, blinking sleep from my eyes as figures came into view: Darius, a very harried-looking guard, Caius, and Baurus, steadier than any of them.

I elbowed Calla, still sleeping beside me. "Hey."

Calla sat up beside me, her hair sticking out all directions as she grimaced with fatigue. "It's the middle of the _night_… oh." She looked balefully at the assembled Blades. "Let me guess. Time for my weekly stroll through the sewers."

"What's going on?" I asked, as the guard unlocked the door.

"You're being released," Baurus said. "Both of you. You know, this is the _second_ time I've been party to your getting out of prison," he told Calla.

She grinned back. "This is the first time I've deserved it."

"So what's going on?" I asked as soon as I was out of the cell, taking in Darius' and Caius' looks of worried preoccupation. "Something's happened, hasn't it?"

Darius opened and shut his mouth, looking reluctant, but Caius intervened. "Not here. Let's get somewhere we can talk, first."

Calla slung an arm around Baurus' shoulders as we left prison behind. "Jauffre still up?"

"Still up and spitting nails," he answered.

"Good," she chirped. "Might as well get him while he's already mad. Saves all that time getting him worked up in the first place."


	49. Chapter 49

Once we made it back to the suite of rooms Darius had been staying in, Caius sat down heavily in a straight-backed chair, uncorking a bottle of something from the table and pouring himself a glass.

"That bad?" I couldn't help but ask, watching in trepidation as he threw back the entire thing in one neat swallow.

He grimaced, shaking his head and pouring another glass. "If there was any justice in the world, you'd be good and liquored up for this. As it is, you're going to want to sit down."

I sank onto the nearby couch, starting to feel sick with worry, but Darius couldn't seem to sit. He leaned on the back of a chair, his hands gripping the edge of it white-knuckled, looking like he was thinking about jumping off the top of White Gold Tower. He caught me looking at him and dropped his gaze, scowling at the floor before heaving a deep breath. "_Damn it_." He stalked over to where I was sitting, tilted up my chin and kissed me briefly. "I love you," he said roughly when he pulled away. "I should have done that in the first place. You just surprised the hell out of me."

I managed to shrug. "It surprised the hell out of me, too. Shouldn't have, I guess."

Darius laughed, a tired sound, and when he looked at me his expression was fond. "No, I guess not."

"What's going on?" I asked. Prickles of ice ran down my spine at their matching looks of apprehension. "Did someone die?"

It had been a rather bad joke, really, but Caius nodded. "Morgiah."

I blinked in surprise. "What? When?"

"This past week. While you were off gallivanting around the countryside with our prodigal Champion picking flowers and riding ponies."

_Picking flowers and riding ponies_… I swallowed an irritated comeback, trying to think instead. "Was she murdered?"

They shared a glance that meant _yes_ before Caius answered, "Officially, no. Officially, she had an accident on a ferry. But probably_?_ I think she was."

I leaned forward, trying to work it through. "Oh, _damn_. What about Morrowind, then? Are…"

Another loaded, reluctant glance shot between Caius and Darius, and Darius looked distinctly guilty, lowering his eyes and shaking his head as if in denial. A sinking feeling like I'd taken a too-large swallow of something cold snaked down my throat. "Please just tell me," I said. "Whatever it is."

Caius hesitated a moment before sighing, looking tired and resigned. "You want me to tell her?"

Darius gave an unhappy jerk of a shrug.

"The Elder Council," Caius began slowly, watching Darius and not looking at me, "along with their new puppet Emperor…" The last word was bitterly twisted, ironic and disdainful. "Have filled the throne of Morrowind."

I sat up in shock, looking from one man to the other, but both of them seemed lost in their own thoughts. I might as well not have been there at all. "_Who?_" I asked, when no more information was forthcoming.

Caius only watched Darius, who seemed to sway in place, looking miserable and overwhelmed. Finally Darius gave a hollow laugh and looked over at me, eyes troubled and swallowing hard before he managed, "Me."

It sank in like my veins had been flooded with ice water. Darius. As king. Of Morrowind.

My own words came back to me, what I'd said to Caius months before on our flight from Mournhold: _Darius is the Hortator. He's the only one with any sort of legitimate claim to leadership, as far as I know_. The memory of Nibani Maesa's voice, raspy and even, reciting to Darius years ago from the destiny of the seven visions he'd been supposed to fulfill: _He speaks the law for Veloth's people. He speaks for their land, and names them great._

I hadn't seen it coming. I should have. From the look of him, though, he hadn't either.

Mourning made something around my heart constrict. I had the raw and tearing feeling that he'd gone too far, been pulled somewhere I couldn't follow. It felt like Ghostgate all over again, watching him led away while I was left behind.

My fingernails bit into the upholstery of the couch, little half-moon rings of unvoiced heartache. "Puppet Emperor," I managed in a wavering voice, seizing on the subject least likely to make me want to cry like a child. "What do you mean?"

"That's not…" Darius began, but he fell silent at Caius' glance.

"For some reason," Caius began slowly, "the Elder Council isn't all that happy with the criticism coming their way after their spectacular mismanagement of the Oblivion Crisis. We've got an Empire in shambles. We've got Ocato—who's not a bad leader, mind, just not an effective one—who's let Elsweyr go, let Morrowind go, who's made some very vocal and influential enemies by refusing to reorganize Legion aid when it was asked for. There have been calls for new leadership from everywhere, there's been talk that the Council is so ineffective that the whole of Tamriel would be better off without it."

He flicked a forefinger against his glass, grim and contemplative. "And so just when they were about to be held truly accountable for being a bloated, self-serving bureaucracy, in comes our little copy of Enman. And despite the fact that he's been raised by wolves in a stone box and has no idea what life on the outside is like, they slapped a crown on him and made him Emperor. Scapegoat. So now none of the Council has to shape up or else face the consequences. It's Cassian's reign now, and so whatever goes wrong they can point at the new Emperor and call it his fault." He grimaced, disgusted. "Never trust a politician to do something well when he can get away with doing it poorly."

Darius finally sat down, leaning forward to rest his elbows on his knees.

"How much power does he actually have, then?" I asked, sitting up straighter. Focusing on the subject of Imperial politics gave me a reason not to think about the implications of Darius on the throne of Morrowind. "You said puppet. Is he only Emperor in name?"

"Mostly." Caius frowned. "He's a figurehead for the moment, who happens to have the right face and the right blood. But he's hardly human at all. A dozen children could drop dead in front of him and he wouldn't bat an eyelash. He's not going to have any idea of what life is like for his subjects, and just because he's a figurehead for now doesn't mean that he won't assume more power as he becomes comfortable in the role of Emperor, whether the Council wants it or not. It's not a very promising situation," he admitted.

I considered it a moment. Darius looked at me again, guilt etched into his expression as he started to say something but I cut him off before he could speak. "How do the Blades feel about him?"

Caius gave a short, barking laugh, utterly devoid of humor. "Not happy. Jauffre's not happy. I think the plan was to set Cassian up somewhere in the country and watch over him for the rest of his life. Instead, Ocato caught wind of him and ran with the whole idea from there. I think as far as Jauffre's concerned," he continued, eyes distant, "Calla's child is the rightful heir. Or would be, if she could live long enough to have him."

"She thinks she's going to," I said. "That's why we went to Kvatch."

Caius' hand on his glass tightened, and he froze a moment before setting it aside. "Explain," he ordered shortly, leaning back in his chair and going inscrutable.

I took a breath, remembering. "She told me she needed to go home. We went to Kvatch and… something happened, in the chapel of Akatosh. I don't know what, exactly. But afterwards she wasn't as ill as she had been. She said she felt like she had enough time to have her child. And she asked me to raise him."

"What?" Darius was incredulous.

"What was your answer?" Caius asked quietly.

With an effort, I unclenched my hands. "I said I'd have to…" I glanced at Darius, who was a king, now, and felt as far away as the moons. "Think about it," I finished.

Consternation flickered briefly across Caius' face—he'd caught the lie, I imagine—but he made no other sign of it. "Are you inclined to accept?"

"Yes," I said, not looking at Darius, trying to keep my composure. It wasn't going to be possible if I looked at him. "I think I am."

Caius' eyes went narrow as he thought. "Hmm."

"You've already decided this, haven't you?" Darius sounded surprised.

I sat in place, stiffly. I couldn't go back to the temple. Darius would be expected to go be a king, and there'd be little room in his world for people like me. He'd probably have to… well. Politics. And all the Great Houses probably seeking alliances and leverage, and other countries looking to forge new bonds. It clarified things rather sharply.

He looked hurt, of all things. "You didn't even—" He broke off as someone knocked on the door and didn't wait for an answer.

It was Calla. "Hey! Oh." She frowned when she saw the three of us, looking at Darius askance. "Everything all right?"

"Everything's fine," I lied, rising. "What do you need?"

She rubbed at the back of her neck, looking sheepish. "Jauffre wants to see you."

Oh, this night kept getting better and better. "Right now, I assume."

She laughed a little but it came out weak. "It's always 'right now' with Jauffre."

I felt briefly sick, and tried to swallow the feeling down. "He actually trusted the two of us in the same hallway?"

"Not exactly. Baurus is waiting to walk us down. And he's already said he'd conk me over the head if I did anything stupid."

"Probably a wise precaution," Caius muttered from his chair.

The longer I made him wait the more irritable he was likely to be. "Fine," I said. "Let's go." This was turning into a very long, strange day. Just this morning I'd woken up in the wilderness with Brennan and Calla, picking flowers at the roadside. It felt like weeks ago.

"No." Darius was adamant, frowning at Calla and me both. "We're not done here. Jauffre can wait five damned minutes."

Another look passed between Darius and Caius, though what it meant I couldn't tell. After a moment Caius pushed to his feet, putting on a smile and steering Calla out of the room. "So you're the one who's been giving our Grandmaster so much trouble. Have you ever seen the winter gardens?"

The door closed behind them, sounding unusually loud and leaving Darius and me alone. Long seconds of silence stretched between us, wavering with uncertainty. "Why didn't you tell me? Or ask me if I cared about it?" Darius asked finally, looking confused and a little stung. "It'd be nice to know these things before I'm expected to just go along with them."

I frowned, trying to choose my words carefully. "I imagine you'll be very busy. You'll be in Mournhold, won't you? As king."

He grimaced, shaking his head. "I didn't ask for this."

"I know," I said quickly. "It doesn't make it less true though, does it?"

Darius ran his hands over his face, obviously tired. "No. Can we sit down?"

Back on the little couch I tried again not to fidget or give voice to any of the more chaotic emotions inside me, tried to resist the impulse to hold onto him as though I could somehow stop the future from coming.

Darius huffed a strange laugh. "Go easy on me, would you? I've just learned in the last ten hours I'm going to be a father, and now not just to my own child but Martin's too. It's a lot of shock for one day, I think."

"I…" I could feel my forehead wrinkle in confusion as I reached for words, feeling like I was putting out my fingers and catching only spider webs. "I can do that on my own. It's not something that you…"

He frowned, leaning away and looking as though he didn't understand. "Not something that I what?"

My mouth had gone dry with nerves; I licked my lips but they were cracked and cold. "You're going to be busy," I repeated. "As king. You'll be expected to do other things besides…" My voice failed me; I swallowed and tried to speak again but nothing came out and my eyes started to sting.

Darius looked concerned, shifting closer. "Hey."

"Sorry," I managed, frustrated, trying to smile and failing. "It's been a long day for me too, I guess." I crumpled the cloth of my cloak in my hand reflexively, grimacing. "I know we didn't really talk about what would happen after all this was done but I didn't expect… I didn't expect things to end this way."

He frowned again, this time in alarm, not following at all_. _"_End?_ I don't—" Realization hit him hard and suddenly. "You think…" He laughed in what sounded like relief. "No. Gods, no. I..." He hesitated, and looked stricken. "I've got news. You're not going to like it. And it's going to sound bad, but we can fix it. Probably. It might take a few murders."

I frowned up at him. "Murders?"

He winced. "That was supposed to be a joke. Sorry. This whole day has gone… strange." He took a deep breath. "Keep in mind that I didn't have a lot of time to think so I just acted, all right?"

I nodded, trying to swallow down my trepidation. "I'm listening."

He grimaced. "Just save your spells for my list of apologies at the end, would you? They'll be impressive, I promise, I've been working on them for days."

My eyebrows rose. "Darius. What did you _do?_"

The momentary panic on his face did nothing for my own nerves. "Well," he began. "You know how they made me king. And it was a… a surprise. But I thought… no, that doesn't matter." He shifted again, frowning. "After that, one of the representatives starts talking to me about… alliances and how it would be really easy to seal those things and shake off some of the problems with being an Imperial in charge of a Dunmer country by marrying some noblewoman from… I don't even know. He had a list. What I could get for each one, like it was a transaction."

I nodded; it was no less than I'd expected.

Darius tried to laugh, but it came out strangled. "So… you know, me being me. I said no."

I stared at him, not understanding. "What?"

"I told them no," he repeated, shifting beside me on the couch. "I told them I was already married and so I couldn't get married to anyone else."

"You did," I said, numb.

Darius nodded. "Yes."

I tried to make sense of it and couldn't. "To whom?"

He frowned. "To everyone."

I sat back, overloaded and feeling like an idiot. "You claimed you were married to everyone."

"No." He smiled, a bit crookedly. "I told everyone I was married. To you."

"You…" I pressed the heels of my hands to my eyes, trying to think. "You told everyone that you were married," I repeated rather dumbly. "To me."

He seemed warily relieved. "Yes."

I had no response for that at all. Darius grimaced, shifting again and settling a little distance away. "Here's where things get… ridiculous. And trust me when I tell you I didn't know this was going to happen, but…" He sighed. "Turns out that because I made the announcement in the middle of council, it was written down alongside all the other legal resolutions and agreements. And so it was recorded, and…" He winced. "You're going to hate this."

I seemed to be incapable of saying _just tell me_, but something in my expression must have told him hurry up and spit it out, because he swallowed hard again and said, "It's legal."

"Legal." I was turning into an oversized mimic-bird. "What do you mean?"

Darius winced. "I mean now it's a matter of public record. And I didn't even know what that meant_,_ really, until Caius told me. Legally, we're married. For about three days, now."

_That_ I understood with razor-sharp clarity. I nearly wished I didn't. "Let me get this straight," I began, unable to keep the edge from my voice. "We're married."

Darius' knees must have become suddenly fascinating. He couldn't seem to look away from them. "Yes."

"And have been, for three days. And everyone knows."

"Yes," he said again, looking a bit ill.

"Except for _me_," I finished. "Because you did this while I was gone, without asking."

"I had meant to," he explained quickly, unhappy. "I was going to ask you when we got back to Morrowind, but then… there was the council, and you were gone to Kvatch and… I didn't know that it would be as complicated as it became. I thought saying it would take the pressure off, and then if you wanted to, we could make it true on our own time. And then you came back and said you didn't want to get married, and…" He hesitated. "We can fix this, though. It'll just take some work."

"Fix it how?" I'd started digging my fingernails into my palms at some point; my hands hurt.

"Undo it. Get out of it." The idea seemed to dishearten him. He watched me with an odd expression. "Look—"

"I'm going to be sick," I told him, running off the couch and heading for the other room. I hadn't been sick in days but now I couldn't help it. I heaved, bent over on my hands and knees, utterly overwhelmed as I coughed and spluttered.

"I'm sorry," I heard him say. He twisted my hair into a loose rope at the back of my neck, getting it out of the way as I scrubbed at my mouth. "Do you want the list of apologies now? I have a lot of them."

I shook my head, wiping at my streaming eyes and sitting up. "Not really, no."

He shifted, sitting on the floor beside me. "I would have asked, you know. I wanted to. And I know the baby was a surprise—and Calla's kid, that was a _big_ surprise—but… hell. I always wanted a big family, you know? Never thought I'd get one." He hesitated, a flicker of remembered pain moving like a shadow across his face. "I really thought I'd be gotten rid of when I'd lived out my purpose."

A tool, to be used and discarded. Only not quite the way he'd thought.

A thousand little moments that had defined our lives cartwheeled through my memory. Watching over him nights on the lonely foyada as the stars wheeled above. Listening to his heartbeat, curled in his arms in that cabin feeling as new as though we were the only two people in the world. Watching him discover Morrowind, the secret places where beautiful things were kept, where holy things were hidden.

_I think I've been half in love with you from the first time I saw you_, he'd said.

He wasn't the only one.

"_You're_ going to have to deal with the High Priestess," I told him, fighting the absurd, vaguely hysterical urge to laugh. "She would skin me alive."

"I'll do it," he said immediately, straightening. "Are you…"

I shrugged. "Fixing things is a pain."

He looked unsure for a moment, a hopeful grin beginning to tug at his mouth. "You're sure?"

"Not that it matters to me," I said, more lightly than I thought I'd be able to. "But it'll appeal to my brother's delicate sensibilities."

He nodded, the grin stealing across his face in earnest. "And I like not having my legs broken. So… it's good, then?"

A disbelieving laugh bubbled up out of my chest. "It's good." Life just wasn't going to be normal for me, ever. I knew that. "But if I'd known you were going to pull something like this the first time I saw you I'd have left you in the dirt with that broken ankle."

Darius laughed, and reached out to pull me bodily into his lap, a lopsided smile on his mouth. "You'd have left me the water, though."

"Probably."

"Hmm." He pushed aside my cloak, running light fingers over my belly. "So two at once, then."

It didn't seem to bother him. "What do you think of the idea?"

He shrugged, a motion that shifted us both. "I'm not opposed. I have…" He trailed off, regretful, and I remembered. The temple, the whisper. The killer of gods, and what might have been. "A debt," he finished.

"You didn't do anything about it," I reminded him.

"I know. Still." He settled me against his shoulder, and though I couldn't see his face, I could hear the traces of old pain in his voice. "I wished someone had done it for me, you know? Taken me in, actually raised me like one of their own. So yes," he said. "Provided Jauffre doesn't kill us all at the idea of it, I'll do it."

"You have no idea what you're getting yourselves into," Caius said, leaning against the doorframe. "You've managed to spit it out, apparently."

Darius was unable to suppress a grin. "Yes."

Caius looked doubtful. "Right. I don't think it's really sunk in, yet." He looked to me. "You all right?"

"I'm fine." I shrugged a bit. "Tired. It's been a long day."

He snorted. "It's about to get longer. You haven't even realized it yet."

I frowned, not understanding.

Caius only raised an eyebrow. "What do you call a woman who's married to a king?"

I blinked surprise, answering automatically, " A qu… _oh_." Blood pounded through my head in heavy thuds as my stomach lurched. "Oh, _no_."

I heard Caius laugh as though from very far away. "Not quite the word I was looking for, but that'll do. Not something he spelled out for you, is it?"

"This is bad," I managed, burying my hands in my hair in disbelief, digging my nails into my skull. "This is _really bad_."

Another laugh. "At least we know you didn't miss your calling as an orator. Should I use smaller words?"

"I'm not even a Dunmer."

"We could always paint you blue."

"They're going to _kill me_," I insisted, panic rising like bile at the back of my throat.

Caius didn't seem concerned. "I'm sure some of them will try."

The initial burst of terror washed out in a wave, leaving a horrified sick feeling behind. "No one's ever going to accept this."

"That's where you might be surprised." He disappeared a moment, coming back with a stack of newspapers in his arms. "From Mournhold," he said, tossing papers in front of me one by one. "Vivec. Kragenmoor. Narsis. You're in all of them. You've become a very popular figure since that little scene at the temple. Most of the response has been positive. There's even a tiny but vocal group who's just shifted their focus of worship over to you."

I shook my head, not understanding.

Caius laughed shortly. "You've got your own little cult."

_My own…_ "I think I need to sit down," I managed.

"You're already sitting down," Caius pointed out.

"I need to lie down, then."

"No time. Jauffre's waiting. Up you get."

"Come on," Darius said, helping me to my feet. "He's not that bad."

I wavered. "Calla said…"

"Calla goes far out of her way to irritate Jauffre beyond all sense or reason," Caius cut me off. "Don't be an idiot and you'll be fine." He laughed at Darius as we made our way into the hallway. "Just wait until morning. As soon as she has time to think about this she's going to murder you. Poetic, isn't it? History repeating itself."

Darius glared at him.

Caius only grinned. "What, too soon?"


	50. Chapter 50

Jauffre didn't seem to feel like talking, even after I'd been deposited in a chair across from him at an imposing-looking desk. He scarcely looked up when I came in, and went directly back to his papers. Long minutes passed without a word from either of us, the only sound the scratching of his quill along the parchment.

If I hadn't known better, I'd have thought he was merely busy. The High Priestess had done this exact thing, though: make people wait to make them nervous, wear down their resistance, let them rush to fill the silence. It had to be five minutes or more before he finally set aside his quill. "Do you have anything to say for yourself?"

"No."

It seemed to surprise him, faintly. "No? Caius Cosades didn't ask you to take Calla from the palace?"

"No." That must have been why Caius had been so irritated_. _"Caius had nothing to do with it. Calla asked me to get her to Kvatch. I did."

I left it at that_. The less you say,_ Fena had whispered to me with a grin that first month I'd been at the temple, _the less they can use against you._

He gave a small sigh. "And you never paused to consider _why_ Calla was being kept protected in the first place?"

"She said she wasn't allowed to leave and there was an armed guard at her door. That sounds like 'imprisoned' more than 'protected,' to me."

He made a noncommittal noise, steepling his fingers on the desk as he regarded me. "Calla made no mention to you, of course, of her threats to harm herself. Of her desire to 'crawl away somewhere and die', and to take action herself to 'get it over with.' Did she?"

A chill of frost crept down my spine. "No."

"I thought not." He took up his quill again, scratching idly at the page. "For all Calla is capable of abrasiveness and thoughtlessness she is also remarkably good at getting people to do what she wants. There is a trail of people from one end of Cyrodiil to the other who find themselves quite taken with her with no idea of precisely why."

Damned Imperials. I wasn't _ever_ going to speak to a new one again.

"And now she's asked you for this," he continued, thoughtful. "I've spoken with those who know you; I've little doubt your intentions in taking her to Kvatch were benign. What worries me is your incredible lack of wisdom and good judgment in the face of the simplest of circumstances. You left at night, unarmed and unescorted through large sections of unpatrolled wilderness. You were entirely unprepared for such an excursion. You didn't even inform anyone as to your destination."

I almost protested but stopped myself. I had. I'd told Caius. He must not have told anyone else.

Jauffre frowned. "These are not actions which speak of a bright or prudent mind, to me. You could have approached any number of people and contracted aid for the journey. If you could have made a convincing enough argument for the case, I might have taken her myself. Instead you chose the path of deception, sneaking behind the backs of people who'd been set to protect her. Your motives may have been honorable; your actions have been quite the opposite. Surely you can understand my reluctance in this matter." He tapped the quill against the page, a tight, tense motion. "If this is the type of behavior we can expect from you I worry for the future of Morrowind and wonder if you're even capable of raising your own child."

It stung like a slap to the face, but I said nothing. For one thing, he had a point. For another, I felt like I was being tested.

"However," he sighed, toying idly with the edge of the parchment. "Ever since Kvatch was destroyed Calla has been attempting to collect a new family for herself, snatching up anyone that shows her the slightest scrap of affection and adding them in. For the most part it was Blades, but even so, most of them perished at the battle of Bruma. Now you've apparently made quite an impression." He frowned down at his paper, looking worn.

"Do you believe in coincidence?" I asked.

To my surprise he gave a soft, sorrowful chuckle. "Serving the Septim line and believing in coincidence are two mutually exclusive endeavors, I'm afraid." Jauffre paused and looked over at me from across the desk. "I've not been impressed with what I've seen of you so far. If you're serious about this undertaking I expect to see a dramatically more responsible person come to light over whatever time is available. For _now_," he stressed, "I will tolerate this, as Calla's wishes and as a matter of interim practicality. If you give me a single reason to reconsider this, I will. If you endanger her safety again I'll see you in prison for a dozen years. And if you should manage to harm her," he said, his voice cold as winter, "you'll not live to see the following dawn. Do I make myself clear?"

"Perfectly," I managed, a bit hoarsely.

He gave a brief, dissatisfied sigh. "Good. Now get out of my office."

-oOo-

It was midmorning when I woke up to the sound of books being stacked on a nearby table. I cracked an eye open, wary and still tired. Caius. Of course it would be Caius. "What's all that?" I mumbled, half into my pillow.

He glanced up, wry and amused. "It's about time you got up. Half the day's gone already. This," he indicated the stacks—two dozen books, at least, and another wooden crate of them still on the floor—"is the beginning of your education."

I frowned as I sat up, my head feeling thick. "My education." But I'd already _had_ an education. "What for?"

Caius laughed, putting a three-volume set on the table. "Think hard."

The previous day came crashing back all at once. "Oh, hell."

He chuckled, tracing fingers over the spine of a leather-bound book. "That's the spirit."

I raked hair out of my eyes, trying to stand up before I realized that might not be the best of ideas. The world was swaying gently, and I sat back down on the bed less gracefully than I'd have liked. "Where's Darius?"

"Left early this morning with your brother. Something about unfinished business to take care of. There's a note for you on the desk if you care to read it."

"You've already read it, haven't you?" I was still dizzy and cold; I frowned and closed my eyes to try and let it pass.

"Of course. Doesn't say much, though." When I looked up he was frowning. "Are you all right?"

"Fine. What… what kind of education? I know why," I clarified at his skeptical glance. "But what is it I'm going to be studying, exactly?"

"Law. Morrowind and Cyrodiilic, you'll need to know both. Political theory and some military tactics. As much history as we can cram into that head of yours." Another several books went onto the table, the titles on their spines faded illegible with age. "You'll need to read the newspapers, every day you can get them, from as many places as you can get them. Keep an ear on what people are saying. I hope you weren't laboring under the delusion that this was going to be _easy_."

I considered the sheer number of volumes on the table with a sinking feeling. "No. I never… I didn't expect anything like this at all."

Caius made a noncommittal noise, pulling the last of the books from the crate and considering them one by one, setting each volume down. He'd sorted them by subject, I could see now. Two slim brown volumes in particular caught my eye, works on the strategy of war. Chess, I thought. _Time you learn how it's done. _"You saw this coming, though," I said, bemused. "Didn't you?"

He gave a brief chuckle, flipping through one of the books. "I thought it might be a possibility. Seemed to become increasingly probable over the past month or so. I should have had you working instead of wandering around the palace bored and looking for trouble." He set down the book he was holding and picked up another. "Start here, with inter-province law and the technicalities of secession. It'll be most relevant immediately. After that there's the history of…"

It wasn't like Caius to leave a sentence unfinished, but he was frowning, preoccupied, looking as though he was listening to something only he could hear. "Cuckoos," he mused, finally.

_The history of cuckoos? _I thought, and then remembered the words of the seer from months before: _a cuckoo's child will undo Talos' mortal folly._

"You don't think…" I let the sentence hang as he had, wondering. I still had no idea what _Talos' mortal folly_ might be.

"I don't know. It could still be nonsense." He was still frowning though, contemplative. "In any case, keep it to yourself. People have a tendency to let prophecy run away with them. Darius should be fine," he continued, picking up another book. "But don't tell Calla. And Jauffre's got enough to contend with at the moment. For now, keep your head down. You've got a lot to learn, and not much time."

The horrified sick feeling from last night began to creep back, making something drop at the pit of my stomach.

"It's sinking in, isn't it?" At his critical look, I nodded. "Good. You need to know the magnitude of this if you're going to do it well."

"Do you…" At the unexpected waver in my voice, his hands stilled on the books and he watched me expectantly. "Do you really think I can do this? I'm a priestess, not a… not a politician or a general or—"

"I think you might be getting the wrong impression," he cut in, looking faintly amused. "Your job has gotten bigger, true. But in all probability, you're still going to be essentially an advisor. Darius—for as much as I'd never have thought it from the night he showed up on my doorstep and tried to tell me to go to hell—he's turned into quite a leader. You've seen it." He shook his head at some private laughter. "When he leads, people will follow. No one's going to expect you—or want you—to take on that role. You just do what you've been doing: watch, and listen, and pay attention to what's going on around you." He frowned. "Not that this is going to be easy. It's still a significant responsibility he's dumped on your shoulders."

I nodded, holding onto the bedpost, trying to take it all in. "Why are you doing this?" I asked finally, eyeing the books on the table. "Helping me," I clarified at his questioning glance.

Caius gave a short, wry laugh. "Everyone needs a hobby. Any idiot can whittle or collect coins. But shaping the future of the whole damned world?" He smiled, wolfish. "That's something worthwhile. Darius isn't going to listen much; he never has. But you're another matter altogether. You've no idea how satisfying it would be to watch you turn into a queen actually worth following. You're not going to fail at this," he said seriously, and I didn't know if it was assurance or warning. "You're going to do your damndest and make this work."

Warning, then. I nodded again. I was already part of it. There was little else to do but make the best of it.

"Besides," he continued, thoughtful. "If you're really going to be raising Martin's son, you're going to need to be sharp. Having a mother who's wise and worth following will go a long way toward making sure _he's_ wise and worth following. And if you can pull _that_ off…" His eyes narrowed in contemplation. "Well. It would be quite an accomplishment."

An involuntary shiver shook through me and I pulled a blanket over.

He frowned at me again, crossing the room and laying a cool, dry hand on my forehead. "Hmm. I think you might've caught something; you're fevered. Get back in bed and I'll fetch a healer and more for you to read."

I had to laugh a little. Even as I crawled back under the blankets he brought a stack of books to my bedside. "I need to start immediately, I imagine."

"The whole thing started without you while you were out cavorting in the wilderness with Calla," he retorted. "You've got to catch up."

"Cavorting," I scoffed, cracking open the book he'd indicated I should start with. "Hardly."

He only smiled. "Read. I'll be back in a bit. Your _Majesty_," he added, laughing at my expression as he closed the door behind him.

-oOo-

It was almost evening when Calla bounded into my room, flopping full-length onto my bed and spilling what was left of my tea directly into my lap.

"So," she began, grinning ear-to-ear.

"Dammit, Calla," I sighed, trying ineffectually to wipe up the mess. "It's a good thing that was cold."

She hardly looked abashed at all. "Sorry. You're sick?"

"I was." I set aside the book and cup, crawling out of bed to get changed. "Chills, the healer said, made worse by my 'condition.' I'm to stay in bed for a week."

She only laughed. "And you're already up."

"Someone dumped tea on me," I pointed out, pulling a clean dress out of my closet. "But I'm beginning to wonder if I might have a problem with authority."

Calla grinned again, wolfishly. "Good for you. Only now you _are_ the authority. You feel any different?"

I laughed, a little disbelieving as I stepped behind a screen and pulled my soaked dress over my head. "No. I feel the same as always."

I heard Calla give a low whistle. "You have to _read_ all these?"

"Most of them. Some of them I've already read." With the clean dress on I climbed back into bed, pulling the covers up half-heartedly. "Still plenty more to go, though."

She made a face. "It sounds boring. You look bored."

"It's important. And being bored gets me in trouble."

Calla toyed with the tassel on a throw, flipping it idly in her fingers. "So let's go _do_ something. Darius ran off to go find trouble, didn't he? You should do it, too."

Except there were a thousand reasons not to, and pretty close to the top of the list: Jauffre would cheerfully strangle me. "If Darius had wanted to find trouble he wouldn't have taken my brother," I pointed out instead. Not that I knew where he had gone. The note was unspecific. "And I can't imagine you're allowed to go anywhere."

"I can have the run of the palace now," she said. "But I hear Cheydinhal's lovely this time of year."

I gaped a bit. "You're not serious."

Calla grinned. "I can bust you out of here. We can be in Cheydinhal painting the town with the Knights of the Thorn this time tomorrow. A few of them are even worth looking at."

"There are so many things wrong with that plan I don't know where to start."

She laughed and flopped onto her back. "Who's going to stop you? You're a queen now, you get to make the rules."

"Not quite." I poured a new cup of tea from the little pot, keeping it carefully out of Calla's reach.

"You'll be going back to Morrowind soon," she complained. "And I'm going to be carted back to Cloud Ruler Temple for the rest of my life. I just want to do something fun before I'm packed off to wait for my own death."

My fingers curled around the warm cup. "I'm not supposed to get out of bed, though. And I don't know that I'm _up_ for getting into trouble." I took a sip of tea, considering. "You might convince Baurus to go have fun."

"Already tried," she sighed. "He's under orders. And he's a better Blade than I am." We sat a few moments in silence, Calla gnawing at her stubby fingernails while I drank my cooling tea. "How long's Darius gone for?" she asked finally.

"Don't know. His letter didn't say."

She lapsed into silence again, considering. "As long as he's gone, can I stay here? I'm supposed to be taking things easy too but it's boring up there alone."

I thought about it a moment. "I've got to read, so I don't know that it would be all that interesting." She didn't look dissuaded, so I finished, "But yes, you're welcome to stay."

She settled under the blankets on the other side of the big bed, and though I was skeptical of her ability to stay quiet while I read, I needn't have worried. After twenty minutes had passed in silence, I glanced up from the pages of the book to find her asleep.


	51. Chapter 51

"Well look at this," Caius chuckled, jarring me from sleep. "Not married a week and already in bed with someone new."

There was an arm slung around me and something damp on my shoulder. I turned over, blinking, to find Calla still asleep in my bed, her face smooshed and a dribble of saliva sticking to my dress. I must have fallen asleep reading, and she must never have woken up. "It's not what it looks like," I offered.

Caius only managed a faint noise of amusement. "I didn't imagine it was."

I sat up, pushing Calla's arm off me gently so as not to wake her. "It's not even dawn yet. What's going on?"

"We have a situation," Caius said, voice strained. "One that requires we use what time we've got."

Of course we had a situation. We always had a situation. I rubbed at my forehead, trying to shake myself alert. "Any chance I could take five minutes to wake up a bit and meet you in the other room?"

He considered a moment. "A few minutes won't make much difference. Be quick."

Three and a half minutes later I sat across from him at the little table, watching him pour thick, dark tea into cups and taking in the beginnings of circles under his eyes. "Do you ever sleep, anymore?"

"Not nearly enough." He drained the cup in one long drink, immediately pouring another.

I took my cup, sipping at it and grimacing at the bitterness. "What's the situation, then?"

"Darius is supposed to have a meeting this morning, an important one. But as you've noticed, he's nowhere to be found." Caius scowled.

"How important?"

He grimaced. "Cassian and Ocato."

_Damn_.

"This isn't the sort of thing he'd miss out of stupidity, either, so I have to think something's happened to him. I have no idea where he is, though. And the meeting's got to be kept, but the next ranking person in line is you, and you're completely unprepared and supposed to be bedridden, besides." He sighed tightly. "But they're having none of it. They're sharks; they think they smell blood in the water. They don't care if you're actively dying. They want you there in Darius' absence so they can rip you to pieces and take advantage of him being gone."

My stomach dropped at the thought of Darius being in danger he couldn't get out of, and again at the prospect of jumping into such a huge responsibility unprepared. "When?"

"Noon." He grimaced. "I thought he'd be back by now. You've no idea what 'unfinished business' might mean?"

"No." It came out a bit thick; I took a sip of tea. "You think he might be in trouble."

Caius pushed away from the table, pacing. "He was talking about wanting to get back to Morrowind to get settled, and getting everything cleared up politically before then so you could both have a breather. He wouldn't leave this hanging over your head." He grimaced again. "So either he's in prison, he's lost, or he's dead."

"He's not dead," I protested, though I had no idea if that was true. Dwelling on it wasn't going to help, either. "So what do we do? I don't have the faintest idea where he might be."

Caius sighed. "I was hoping you'd have some inkling of where he could have gone. Other than that, you'll have to meet Cassian in his place. You've got about six hours to prepare."

We set to the problem then, cracking open books and poring over the areas he knew would be discussed. It was an advantage that he had an idea of what they'd be asking; at least I was able to get the general sense of what I'd have to know. We were two hours and about a hundred documents in when we came across a glaring snag, a loophole that threw everything else into confusion: Morrowind hadn't been legally accepted back into the Empire.

It had been assumed that of course it would be, when Darius got the situation in Mournhold under control. Even so, the readmission of a rogue province required the signing of new treaties. If the Elder Council hadn't acknowledged the secession, the order to remove Almalexia and her government would have been an attack on the leader of a province in good standing: an act of war. Since it hadn't been treated as a readmission—only as a continuation of the pre-secession state—we were in a strange state of legal limbo.

Caius began swearing rather colorfully when the realization hit.

"So what now?" I asked a bit tightly.

"There's got to be a new treaty," he said, scowling. "They've just swept it under the rug, though I don't know if they meant to or not. Secession and readmission aren't something that happen every day, you know. Particularly in the middle of daedric invasions, assassinations, new Emperors… hard to think something like this could get lost in the shuffle, though. _Damn_."

I worried at my lip, my stomach roiling with nervousness. "But they'll have to wait for Darius now, won't they?"

His bark of a laugh was utterly without humor. "No. They'll want you to do it, and all the better if you've no idea what you're doing. Your job's just become much harder."

So we were technically an independent state… I sighed, trying desperately to think. "Do we _have_ to bring it up?" At his look of irritation, I winced. "Sorry. Of course." I buried my head in my hands, resisting the urge to groan. "You know, most of Morrowind's not going to care anything about treaties or the legal details. They'll just want independence from the Empire. It's true," I insisted at his expression. "You know it is."

He grimaced unhappily. "I know." The silence stretched out between us as we retreated back into our separate lines of thought, worrying at the problem. Finally he sat back down, shoving aside a book to rest an elbow on the table. "You're not thinking of trying to keep Morrowind from the Empire, are you? If you bring that up in front of Ocato you'll be in prison again before you can blink."

"No." I stared down at the pages in front of me but they held little in the way of answers. "I'm not. But it's a mess all around. I'm not Dunmer, so I'm half-damned already. If I'm the one who gives Morrowind back to the Empire—legally, anyway—I'm going to be branded an Imperial lackey. You know it's true," I pressed at his look of irritated distaste. "And I don't think the temple incident will be nearly enough to redeem me. But I can't hold it separate."

He frowned. "No. Morrowind can come back quietly or Cassian will take it by force. He's already indicated as much about Elsweyr. And you might not want war but I don't think he'll have any qualms about it."

I rubbed tiredly at my face, watching the morning sunlight filtering through the curtained window. "Damned if I do, and damned if I don't." And talking about Morrowind was a sharp reminder of how far away it was, and how much I wanted to go home.

"I told you this wouldn't be easy."

"I know."

We sat for several minutes in silence, turning the problem over in our minds, trying to come up with a solution from thin air. Finally an idea began to stir, little by little as I worried at it. Morrowind couldn't stay separate because there would be war to keep it, a war no one could afford to fight. I couldn't simply agree to going back to the way things had been before because I'd be seen as a traitor to my own country, weak and eager to capitulate to Imperial interests. But if the new treaty made things better, I thought, better than they had been before… And if Morrowind had _incentive_ to go back to the Empire…

"Trade agreements," I murmured finally, shaking Caius from his thoughts. "Money," I clarified at his curious look. "Everyone wants money. We can renegotiate the taxes, the trade agreements. There's still an embargo on Vvardenfell because of the Blight, but the Blight's been gone for years. Those Imperial monopolies don't benefit Morrowind at all; we can work with those. If it's possible to do this in a way that makes Morrowind richer—and not just the House leaders, but everyone—it could be actually beneficial. Right?"

He mulled it over, rubbing distractedly at his chin as he considered it. "It might be. There was certainly no lack of complaining over taxes back on Vvardenfell. They're not going to be eager to let those monopolies go, though."

I took a deep breath, thinking, trying to piece it together. "They're already gone, technically. The Empire lost them in the secession. They'll have to be renegotiated from scratch." I looked up at Caius. "I think this could work."

His eyes narrowed in thought. "It might. You'll need a clear outline of what you're trying to achieve, though. And you'll need to ask for far more than you actually expect to get. Leave room to be negotiated down." He pulled over a fresh piece of parchment as I dug for my copies of the old treaties, and for the next few hours we hashed out a plan: what to ask for, points of particular interest, the few things that we'd have to consider non-negotiable.

The longer we worked, the more hopeful I became that the plan was sound and that I could go in there and do it without betraying my loyalties either to Morrowind or the Empire. Half an hour before noon, Caius told me to take a break—to eat something, dress properly, get ready—and I did, running information over and over through my mind, steeling myself for the day ahead.

I'd have to do it alone.

Normally, he'd said, I'd have advisors, assistants, that sort of thing. As it was, there was no one. The few people who'd normally have been there working for Morrowind interests had gone back to make their reports about the news of Darius' ascension to the throne. Caius couldn't stand in with me because a Blade working to negotiate against a sitting emperor was a clear conflict of interest. There was nothing for it.

When noon came around and there was still no sign of Darius I walked down to the grand chamber, a sheaf of papers under my arm and mustering all the calm I could, mindful of Caius' advice to be stubborn and feeling as though I was walking into Oblivion.

-oOo-

Darius had been right: Cassian was a very odd, cold man.

It was five hours later when the gathering finally concluded and I made my way back out into the hall, queasy from the stale air of the council-chamber and feeling limp with relief that it was over.

"That wasn't half bad," Caius offered, threading through the milling crowd and coming up behind me.

"You saw?" There'd been a group assembled to watch but I'd been unable to divide my attention and look for familiar faces.

He nodded, falling into step at my side. "I did. Not bad for a first day."

I still wasn't completely satisfied with the way everything had gone. Caius had been right about their resistance to give up the profitable mining monopolies, though now at least a small percentage of the profits would be going back to Morrowind. And now the companies doing the mining would be required to seek employees among the local population instead of bringing in the bulk of their workers from Cyrodiil, but the embargo had been lifted entirely and Morrowind was once again legally a part of the Empire. "Darius would have done better, I think," I frowned.

"Darius would have gotten bored an hour in and just dug in his heels. You did fine. Better than they were expecting, I think, but they won't underestimate you again." He looked amused. "You must have an Imperial or two hiding up there in your family tree."

I smiled weakly. "Not that I know of. Gods, I'm starving."

"You should be in bed. You still look like you're one stiff breeze away from falling over. I'm not going to listen to Darius… well. Speak of the devil."

The very windswept-looking devil, coming my direction with Brennan at his side. My heart gave a lurch: following them was the High Priestess, seemingly unaware of the curious glances coming her way as she swept down the corridor of the palace, tall and regal and clearly out of place.

"Unfinished business?" I muttered quietly into Darius' ear as he embraced me in greeting.

"Among other things," he admitted, just as quietly. "You did tell me I'd have to deal with her."

She was talking to Caius, and her expression gave away nothing. "What did she say?"

"That she would only talk to you." There were lines of worry creased across his forehead, a tight, pinched sense of tension he must have been carrying the whole time he was gone. "Do you know if they postponed that meeting with Cassian?"

"I just finished it," I whispered back. His eyebrows flew up in surprise but whatever he would have replied was cut off by the High Priestess clearing her throat in impatience. "Right," Darius said, sounding stressed. "Let's get out of the hallway."

Finding Calla in my room was a surprise. Even more of a surprise was finding Baurus and Jauffre in there with her, the three of them deep in conversation as Jauffre flipped through stacks of the pages I'd scribbled on this morning. All of them looked up as we entered.

I hesitated a moment, wondering how best to tell them all to leave, but in that moment of reluctance the High Priestess began, closing the door behind her. "We'll keep this brief," she said coolly, and it took all my control to keep my expression as blank and remote as hers and not to squirm with apprehension. "You're aware that the response to the events in Mournhold has been… enthusiastic, to say the least."

I nodded, waiting.

"This poses a rather unusual problem," she said. "You were sent for a reason, to deliver a very particular message to the people of Mournhold. A message which is now, unfortunately, being eclipsed by the people's response to the messenger."

The messenger. Me. My heart sank as dread began to thud under my breastbone.

The High Priestess clasped her hands in front of her, watching me. "The Nerevarine has described to me the events of the last several months, and your involvement in them. You have had a rather meteoric rise to prominence, it seems. And yet you've not actually left the temple, despite this."

I winced inwardly, wondering if this counted for Jauffre as a reason to find me completely incapable of carrying out Calla's wishes.

She pursed her mouth a scant moment in dissatisfaction before regarding me again. "You are not being released from the order."

I blinked, thinking I'd heard her wrong for a moment.

"You were a messenger, a servant, and you're to remain so," the High Priestess pressed on. "Queen or not, you'll be a priestess first, always, in private and in public. You're released from the temple and from the duties you held there, but not from your title or the responsibilities that come with it."

"I understand," I murmured, bowing my head a bit in acquiescence. It wasn't what I'd been expecting, but it wasn't all that bad, exactly.

She wasn't done, though. Her lips pressed into a line, briefly, before her expression settled into tranquility once more. "There is one other thing. One task. You swore obedience, twice now. Isn't that so?"

I nodded, confused.

"The message She set you to give was well-delivered," she began calmly. "But it is being lost in the fervor of novelty over you. If you come back to Mournhold now, as the Nerevarine's queen, the situation will only get worse. We must allow some time for this enthusiasm to die back, to allow the people a chance to see the truth of what happened. You _cannot_ go back to Morrowind, Alora," she said seriously.

The ground seemed ready to open beneath my feet and swallow me, and Darius looked horrified, but she cut off his ready retort with a gesture. "You swore to obey and you will," she insisted. "You will give the people of Morrowind time to see the situation more clearly. You may stay in Cyrodiil; you may travel Tamriel; you may go wherever you like. But you will not set foot in Morrowind for half a year, or else be forsworn."

"Half a…" Darius protested faintly. "You can't be serious."

She glanced at him in mild annoyance. "I am."

"We can't stay out of Morrowind for half a _year_," he objected, beginning to flush with anger.

"You can't," she corrected. "Alora has no choice."

So that was it, then. Separation, all over again, just when we'd managed to make things work. Half a _year? _I clenched my teeth against an upwelling of distress, willing myself to stay calm.

"If this was not necessary I would not ask it of you," she said, looking at me more gently than before. "I am not unsympathetic to your circumstances but you've not yet fulfilled your purpose. You know this isn't too much. Were you not so young and short-lived besides, it would have been longer. If it wasn't needed I would welcome you home without condition, but it is necessary, and your obedience is still required."

A muscle in Darius' jaw twitched with the effort of restraining himself, his eyes sad and angry as they met mine. Half a year. I'd already been homesick as it was; now it infinitely worse. But there was nothing for it. I'd chosen this long ago, sworn obedience and sealed my own fate. And even as I wanted to deny it I could see the necessity. I nodded again, speechless.

"One final thing," the High Priestess said, watching me. "In that half a year you are not permitted to set foot in any temple, any chapel, any shrine or holy place that is not of Azura. You will be watched. There must be no doubt of your faithfulness. Do you understand?"

It seemed an odd order, but I nodded again. "Yes."

She relaxed, so slightly I wouldn't have noticed if I'd not lived under her authority for a decade. "Good. Be well, Alora, and Azura keep you."

"And you," I responded automatically, faintly grateful that I was only a little hoarse.

The High Priestess turned to Brennan, aloof and cold once more. "You may return me to the temple now, child."

His glance at her was decidedly unchildlike but he nodded, casting a spell that shimmered and tore the air, taking them both back to Morrowind with the force of his thought.

No one in the room said anything until Calla, half-forgotten and sitting on the bed made a small noise of protest. "That doesn't seem fair."

I very much wished Jauffre wasn't right there. As it was, I didn't dare complain. "It's not _un_fair," I allowed. "I knew what I was getting into. I wouldn't be here in the first place if it weren't for the temple." My eyes caught Darius' again. "And it's not really that long," I offered, trying to buffer the blow. "We've been apart for longer."

Never like this, though.

Caius, who hadn't said a word, tapped a hand on the wall in a decisive gesture as he reached for the doorknob. "Let's give them some time to discuss it then, shall we?"

Thankfully, there was no protest. Everyone else filed out of the room without comment, even Calla. With the door closed behind them I didn't even hesitate. I walked into Darius' arms, holding on to him tightly. "Damn it all," he muttered against the top of my head. "So much for that."

"How much time do we have?" I asked, my voice muffled by his shirt.

"They're expecting us in Mournhold tomorrow afternoon." He sighed. "I can push it out a while. And it's not like I can't come see you, I just can't stay." I could hear the grimace in his voice. "_Necessary_ or not, this is a hell of a lot to ask."

Half a year. It'd be late summer by then. I'd have a child by then, or be close to it. For a moment the time differential seemed sharply marked: the seconds rushing by until Darius would have to leave, the months stretching out interminably before me of the time I'd have to wait before I could go back home to Morrowind.


	52. Chapter 52

"_Priestess_. C'mon, wake up."

My eyes slitted open the tiniest bit to find Calla sitting on the side of my bed looking pleased with herself. That had to be a bad sign. I frowned, letting my eyes drift shut again. "What?"

"You've got to come talk to Jauffre."

The pillow was soft and warm and I buried my face in it. "Like hell I do." But it came out muffled beyond recognition.

"C'mon, let's go," she said. "Caius is already there."

I sat up slowly and beside me Darius stirred, blinking blearily awake. "Hi, Calla," he said. "Go away."

"Can't." She bounced a foot in cheerful impatience. "Jauffre wants to talk to you. _Both_ of you."

The thought only processed slowly: if Jauffre wanted to talk to both of us and if Calla was in a good mood… "He's decided, then," I realized rather belatedly. "Jauffre has."

Her smile went wide. "I think so."

-oOo-

It really wasn't all that early, I discovered as we wound our way through the corridors, just overcast. The dim light made the hallways look muted, and low rumbles of thunder shook the glass in the windows.

Jauffre was waiting, along with Caius, who tapped a finger on the table with an amused expression as we sat. "Beautiful day to spend indoors, isn't it?"

"Sounds like it," Darius answered.

Jauffre hesitated a moment, looking at the pair of us, his expression going a little wry when Calla took the chair beside me as though taking sides on a battlefield. "We're prepared, then?"

She rested her elbows on the table. "I've _been_ prepared."

"So you have." He shifted in his chair, looking tired and glancing at Darius. "You're still willing to assume this responsibility?"

Darius nodded once, gravely. "Yes."

Jauffre nodded in response. "Very well. I still have my misgivings about this," he clarified. "But your record of service in the Blades has been very strong. And Calla has been… adamant."

She grinned beside me. "A pain in the ass, you mean."

He made a noise of agreement, folding his hands on the table. "You are aware of the magnitude of this arrangement."

A glance at each other, and Darius and I nodded. Calla's child was all that was left. We knew what it meant.

Jauffre watched Darius. "You're already sworn to the child's protection as a Blade, but I will need Alora to take vows. Which will be _binding_," he said, with a significant glance my direction.

"Actually," Caius cut in, looking faintly crafty, "I thought we might discuss that. Not Alora," he clarified at Jauffre's look of consternation. "Darius." The tapping finger on the table stilled as he spoke. "He's going to be tied down with responsibilities as it is; his position as a Blade would be largely in name only. And given the magnitude of this arrangement, and the dangers implicit in such an undertaking, I believe some sort of compensation's going to be necessary."

Calla looked startled. "Dangers?"

"Of course." Caius looked casual. "What do you think happens to Alora and her little family if assassins come after your son? You think they'll only kill the right kid, and not everyone who gets in their way?"

She blanched, looking worriedly at Jauffre.

"You know the risks of hiding him in plain sight. You railed against the use of Kvatch as a buffer for Martin," Caius continued, watching her closely. "And yet you'd turn around and use Alora—and her child—as a buffer for your own. No one knows the dangers of it better than you. Is this really something you'd push onto a friend?"

"Caius," Jauffre cut in warningly, at the same time Calla's eyes went wide and she began, "I didn't…"

Caius leaned back in his chair, satisfied. I almost protested that I'd do it anyway when he caught my eye and shook his head the tiniest bit, a gesture that looked like it meant _keep your mouth shut._

"Compensation," Jauffre repeated warily. "You have something in mind."

Caius' expression hardly changed. "It just so happens that I do. He's going to care for the boy as one of his own anyway. He's done everything asked of him for seven years now, and if you'll recall, he never signed up for this. Make him swear vows to the child, if you like, but I think under the circumstances the least you could offer him is permanent and unconditional release from the Blades."

Darius was stunned silent, and Jauffre raised an eyebrow in thought. "You think so."

"I do."

Jauffre glanced at Darius after a moment. "Would such a release be satisfactory to you?"

Darius sat very still. He'd been dragged unwilling into the Blades in the first place, been working at their behest for… well, Caius had said it. Seven years. "It would," he said at last.

Something passed between them in the space of a second, in the glance between Darius and Caius. I don't think I understood it all, but I did get the gist of it: an old score settled, something laid to rest.

"Very well," Jauffre said. "You'll swear vows the minute the child's born. As of then—not now—you are formally released from the Blades."

Outwardly, Darius gave little sign of emotion, but under the table his hand found mine, our fingers lacing together and holding tightly.

"However," Jauffre continued, "this will leave the child without the protection and guidance of an experienced Blade, and such a situation is undesirable. While we never anticipated that Martin's ascendance to the throne would be necessary, it only added to the burdens he bore in the wake of the assassinations. He was unprepared," Jauffre sighed. "And so were we. And such a situation will not happen again, not when it is so easily avoided. As it is, the boy will be a prince. We must bear in mind that he might become more."

It was delicately said, and I could tell his own words made him uncomfortable.

"He must have an appropriate education," Jauffre finished. "Caius, I believe you're ideal for the job."

Caius' eyebrows rose. "You do."

"Yes." Jauffre settled back into his chair. "You've the experience and political acumen. With Darius released from the Blades, another Blade must be present to watch over the child. You know this."

Caius sat silently for a moment. "Is this an order?"

"There will be other Blades assigned to his protection, naturally. But after the events of the last few months I'm not certain undercover work will be possible for you anymore. A more settled position would be appropriate, I believe."

Caius rubbed a hand across his chin as he considered the idea, his expression unreadable.

"Regardless," Jauffre continued, looking at Darius and me. "When Calla's child is born, you may take him with you to Morrowind. As far as anyone outside this room will know, he will be yours. And it will fall to you, Caius, to ensure his protection. Are we clear?"

I nodded, glancing at Darius, who was doing the same. After a moment, Caius followed suit.

"Good." He sighed, relaxing a bit. "Best to have it settled."

Calla's face split into a wide grin. "So this is it?"

Jauffre nodded and glanced again at me. "Have you given any thought as to where you'll spend the duration of your exile?"

I shifted in my chair, biting back the bitter feeling of looming separation. "My mother offered me a place with her in Skingrad. Other than that, I don't know."

He steepled his fingers briefly in thought, glancing up at the window as a particularly loud rumble of thunder seemed to shake the Tower. "I have a proposal, if you're interested." When I nodded, he went on, "There is a small settlement—a farmhouse—a bit west of Bruma. I know Calla wishes to keep you close, but your inability to enter the Temple itself poses a problem. She cannot be seen going into the city of Bruma itself, but under guard, she could visit you at the farmhouse. In all but the worst weather it's visible from the battlements of Cloud Ruler Temple, as well as just a few minutes' walk to the city. It should be sufficiently secure. And I was told you'd likely prefer to live in privacy rather than in an unfamiliar city where you might become the target of unpleasant reactions to your religious affiliations."

Calla frowned, thinking. "You're talking about Applewatch?" At Jauffre's nod she looked curious. "What happened to the old woman that lived there?"

"I don't know. The house has become vacant in the last few weeks, that's all I was told."

Calla looked at me hopefully. "What do you think? You'll come, won't you?"

Darius leaned back in his chair, thoughtful. "How secure is this place?"

"As secure as anywhere else in Cyrodiil at the moment, save for the castles. Which would probably be open to you now," he added with a glance at me. "Should you wish to enjoy the hospitality of the nobility of Cyrodiil I'm sure many of them would have you. There's enough space for a bodyguard to live at the farmhouse, if you're concerned. And as I said, we can keep an eye on it from the Temple. Few people have any reason to venture north and west of Bruma save the Blades. And I'm told your skills with destruction are not inconsiderable, should they be necessary."

I nodded absently, thinking. A farmhouse. After the hectic pace of the last several months, puttering around a farm in peace, with a friend to visit as the time went by? It sounded like as pleasant a change as I could hope for, given the circumstances. I glanced over at Darius, who shrugged the barest fraction. "It's your decision. I'd be happier if you had a guard, though." He looked over at Caius. "What are you going to be doing?"

Caius gave a short laugh of surprise. "Not playing guard dog to your wife for six months."

"Caius will be required at Cloud Ruler Temple," Jauffre cut in mildly. "If arrangements are to be made, I'm certain the details can be worked out later. For now, is the farmhouse satisfactory?"

I glanced again at Darius before replying. "It is. Thank you."

Calla beamed. "And you'll really let me leave the Temple to come visit?"

Jauffre looked a bit ragged at that, but nodded. "Provided you are well-guarded and take no unnecessary risks, I believe the occasional excursion would do you more good than constant captivity at the Temple."

She made a triumphant sound and leapt out of her chair, leaning across the table and planting an impulsive kiss firmly on his mouth.

"_Calla_," Jauffre finally managed after what felt like several seconds, pushing her back by the shoulders and visibly flustered. "You're all dismissed."

-oOo-

I had one more day with Darius before he had to leave. For the most part we were left alone, but there were a few couriers ignorant to what was going on who interrupted us. We could only shrug. Such is the nature of being a part of politics; such would our new lives be.

We hardly slept that night. In the quiet dark I held to him as though I could hold back the seconds, the hours. I couldn't, of course. Morning came, and Darius left for the Arcane University to get transport to Mournhold, to take his place as king.

"You're not going with him to say goodbye?" Calla asked.

"No." We'd said our goodbyes earlier. With Darius gone, Brennan off to Skingrad, and the few belongings I had packed and ready, there was little to do but wait to go north. I didn't want to mope in front of Calla now, not when she was so cheerful at the prospect of travel. "When are we leaving?"

"Half an hour," she answered, gnawing at a fingernail. "They're smuggling me out in your carriage, did you know?"

I shook my head. "Smuggling?"

She grinned. "They're making a big show of you leaving—for parts unknown, of course—and I'm already going to be in the carriage, so no one will notice me going. Very sneaky. Very Blades-y."

I managed a faint smile. "Sounds crafty. Caius' idea?"

"Jauffre's."

"Oh." I couldn't help but notice the color in her cheeks when she said his name. "Bit of a crush?"

Her crooked smile was wolfish. "Not long to _live_, priestess. If you were dying, wouldn't you want to make the most of what life you had left?"

"Just don't give him a heart attack. No one wants his job," Caius said from the doorway, leaning in. He glanced over at me. "You ready?"

I nodded.

"There's going to be a crowd, I think. Here." He stepped close, and slid a silver circlet onto my head. "This isn't official by any means, but it'll do in a pinch. Have to give the people a little pomp and ceremony. How're you holding up?"

I grimaced. "How long is the ride to Bruma?"

"All day. Probably a fair bit into the night as well." He settled onto the chair, faintly piqued. "You know I'd been thinking of retiring? Seems unlikely _now_."

"Retiring? You?"

He grimaced. "I'd just gotten back to Cyrodiil, too, with education and culture and people who don't think bugs are a high delicacy. Now I've got six months before I'm dragged back to Morrowind for the rest of my life."

Dragged back? "Retirement is boring," I told him. "Cyrodiil is boring. You don't belong here anymore." At his look of wry demand, I continued, "You've got Morrowind in your soul."

"My _soul_," he scoffed, but he looked like he was fighting a smile anyway. "What would you know about my soul?"

An upwelling of memory ran through my brain, of lucky coins and shadows, of something clever and tricky and uncatchable. Fire petals, soft and barbed. Lions… I could have told him about himself in the scraps that I'd seen, that day in Mournhold. Instead I smiled. "I just know. I'm the Emissary of Azura, remember?"

Caius snorted.

"Surely you've heard of me," I pressed, fighting a smile. "Come on, Caius, it was in all the papers."

-oOo-

Once we made our way out of the Imperial City and headed north in earnest, I settled back into the quick-rolling carriage across from Calla. "So glad to be out of that damned palace," she said. She peeked out through the curtain. "How'd your mother take the news, by the way? Wish I could have seen her face when she heard."

"I sent a letter with Brennan." Staying up most of the night was catching up with me, and I leaned back into the seat, tired. "I don't think she's got it yet."

Calla grinned merrily. "A letter? Oh, that's good. 'Dearest Mother'," she began in a mimicry of me, folding her hands in her lap primly. "How are you? Everything's fine here. Got married and made Queen of Morrowind, and going to be living in exile on the swinging balls of Skyrim for six months. How's the weather in Skingrad?"

I choked. "The swinging balls of Skyrim?"

She threw back her head and laughed. "You'll see."

-oOo-

I didn't see, though. It was well past dark when we rode past Bruma, and we left the carriage at the stable. The terrain was too rough for wheels, especially in the dark, and as the bulk of the party headed on horseback up the mountain for Cloud Ruler Temple, Caius and I walked west.

The inside of the farmhouse was neat and tidy and larger than I had expected. I couldn't help a feeling of relief at the idea of having a place of my own, one where I could stay for months at a time instead of having to drag myself from one city to another, one crisis to the next. All I had to do now was study and wait as the time passed, as my child grew and autumn came.

I started tucking my belongings away, a few clothes and some letters I'd need to respond to as Caius began hanging bells on loops of twine from the windows and door. "Just in case anyone decides to pay you an unexpected visit," he explained at my curious glance. "So you'll at least hear them come in. We'll think of something better tomorrow. You'll be all right on your own?"

Even though the prospect of solitude held its own comforts, it didn't diminish my homesickness or lessen the ache I felt at the thought of Darius being so far away. But I nodded, anyway, mutely.

"I'll come by in the morning. Not early," he said, looking tired. "But sometime before noon."

"Thank you, Caius."

"Just keep the door locked. And don't get into any trouble," he warned as he closed the door behind him, the bell jingling merrily at his departure.

Ha, I thought. As though I could even get into any trouble on my own in a place as remote as Applewatch.


	53. Chapter 53

The farm was pretty in a way I hadn't seen the night before. The sun glowed gold over the mountains, illuminating the snow in patterns of color and light. The smell of pines filled the air. I sat on my front step with a mug of tea, considering the bare stretch of my new garden. Only a few thready weeds poked from the soil, but the ground had been well-worked not long ago.

I meandered out into the corner of the garden and poked at the frosty ground with a stick, idly marking out lines of what I wanted to plant. Roses, certainly. I wondered if the black roses of Morrowind would take. They would be a sweet reminder of home as the months wore on. Lavender around the door, perhaps, where I'd smell it in the mornings. It was probably too cold for anything from Vvardenfell, I thought, but maybe I could set up planters inside.

I was startled out of my reverie by a violent whirlwind of magicka that I felt instead of heard, an enormous storm of power like I'd never known before and a flash of golden light so bright it blinded me and sent me reeling back away.

As quickly as it came, it was gone. I heard sobbing as the light flickered in my vision, as I blinked and my eyes cleared. There was a young man in my garden, from nowhere, on hands and knees with his head bowed, covered in blood and crying as though he couldn't stop.

I had seen him before. I had dreamed of him, the night after everything in the Temple district, the borrowed power, the daedra-song spells: a young man I didn't know kneeling in a fallow garden, covered in blood and weeping, broken-hearted. A spell was in my hand, crackling blue as I demanded more steadily than I felt, "Who are you?"

His head snapped up a moment, dark hair falling into blue eyes as he looked at me, tears coursing down his face and a smear of blood across his cheek. "You… I…"

He staggered to his feet and I could see him better: a young man of perhaps nineteen or twenty, the fine material of his white shirt soaked red with blood all across the front. A killer? "Explain yourself," I snapped, pouring more magicka into the ready spell even as he held his hands wide in surrender. The unsteady shiver of half-familiarity niggled at my brain and made the hairs on the back of my neck stand up. "Who are you and why are you here? Are you an assassin?"

"No." His voice was thick with grief but cultured, educated. Through tears, he fumbled at his sword-belt a moment and flung his weapon away into the dirt, spreading his hands again in submission and ducking his head humbly. "I'm… I'm not an assassin. My lady, I swear by all the gods and daedra I'd rather cut my own heart out than cause you a moment's pain."

I was stunned silent by the grim vehemence of his statement, said with such broken conviction. The whirling sense of strangeness crept under my alarm and my spell flickered, going subdued despite myself.

It could still be a trap, I thought, but it seemed less likely than I'd thought before. "Who are you?" I asked as my lightning spell fizzled out completely, as my hand fell to my side.

Tears still tracked down his face but he took his eyes off the ground long enough to glance around at the landscape. "Is this Bruma? Apple… Applewatch? And Cloud Ruler Temple up the mountain, isn't it?" Grains of pale sand fell from his hair and clothes into the dark soil of my garden as he moved, still holding his hands wide in surrender.

"Yes." It was true; there was no harm in him knowing. "But who are you? I'm not going to ask again," I warned him.

He winced, hesitated a moment too long, silence stretching out uneasily. "Caleb," he said at last, unhappily. "Caleb… Varo, ma'am. At your service."

I frowned even as he did. "You're a very bad liar," I told him.

His miserable, wrenching laugh surprised me. "On the contrary, I'm a very good liar, you've always just…" He stopped, horrified.

I've always just… what? "Do I know you?"

He opened and closed his mouth, helplessly, saying nothing but shivering in the cold air of morning. "I swear I mean you no harm," he said instead of answering. "Could we go inside? I'm unused to the cold."

Curiosity and caution warred in me but he was unarmed now, and still with his head ducked and hands spread in submission. Curiosity won out. "You go first," I told him sternly, picking up his discarded sword. "Keep your hands where I can see them and sit down at the table."

He obeyed at once. In a chair with his hands placed on the tabletop he seemed to relax a fraction, though he was still disoriented, tears blurring his eyes. "Where's Bastion?" he asked hoarsely, looking around the house as I poured him a cup of tea.

I frowned. "Who?"

"Your dog—" He cut himself off abruptly, horrified again. "Pardon me, Lady, I'm getting you confused with… someone else. Apologies."

"I've never had a dog," I said slowly.

"No, of course not. I'm confused," he said, his expression bleak. "I've come a long… way. A long way. Forgive me."

I was silent a moment, considering him, trying to put the pieces together. Dark, wavy hair, callused hands, finely-featured face, obviously Imperial. Only his accent was wrong for Cyrodiil, and he was squirming under my regard. "Whose blood is that?" I asked him. "On your shirt."

A thick swallow sent his throat bobbing up and down. "It's… my mother's. She was killed, just before I came."

That, at least, seemed perfectly honest, the grief etched into his features genuine and deep. "I'm sorry," I said automatically. "I didn't know."

"No," he agreed quietly. "You couldn't have." He drained the rest of the tea in his cup, hollow-eyed and silent.

"What happened?" I asked.

He wore his heart in his eyes, this one. "We were attacked," he said thickly, voice breaking. "I was stupid. She tried to protect me. It…" His expression contorted, twisted in pain. "I'm sorry."

I felt a pang of sympathy for the odd, heartbroken boy. "Don't be."

"I wouldn't have disturbed you," he said. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to come here. Got blown off course and didn't know where I'd end up."

I bit the inside of my mouth, considering him and trying to think. He really didn't seem like an assassin. Why the complicated ruse, if just to kill me? But the prickle of half-familiarity had me uneasy, and he still hadn't told me who he was.

Three heavy raps on my door startled me out of my reverie. "Alora," Caius' voice came, muffled but amused. "Make yourself decent and get out here."

The young man leapt to his feet, startled and wide-eyed. "That's Caius, isn't it?" he whispered. "_Hell_."

Confusion screeched in my mind. "You know Caius?"

He looked sick. "He _can't_ know I was here," he pleaded.

_I don't even know who you are!_ I wanted to shout, but before I could say anything he took a long stride forward and snatched his sword from my nerveless fingers, wrapped an arm around me and pulled me roughly into a brief, tight embrace. "I'm sorry," he choked, his voice thick with tears. "I'm so sorry for everything."

I snapped out of my shock to struggle against him but he was no longer there. Another whirlwind of magicka, a flash of gold-white light and he was gone. Gone as surely as if he'd never been there, the only trace of his passing the empty teacup on the table.

I opened the door as if in a dream, unable to shake myself out of the daze and overwhelmed by the strangeness of having so many questions and not a single answer. Caius stood on my doorstep, pink-cheeked with cold and looking pleased, and at his side stood the biggest dog I had ever seen, a huge grizzled beast the variegated gray of storm clouds. "No, don't ask me to come in, I _like_ standing out here in the snow," Caius said wryly when I only stared.

"Sorry." I stepped aside, holding the door open for them to enter. Caius settled into the chair the young man had vacated, the dog clicking his way across the floor to settle in front of the fireplace as I tried desperately to shake myself back to normality.

Caius poured a cup of tea automatically, wrapping his hands around the cup to warm them and watching me with a curious expression. "You all right? You look like you just saw a ghost."

That might not be too far off the mark, I thought. "Sorry," I said again. "You got a dog." If that _was_ a dog, I thought. It looked more wolfish, if wolves had wiry hair and flopped-over ears. It yawned and it looked like my whole head would fit in its mouth.

Caius still looked pleased with himself. "No. I got _you_ a dog."

Ice bloomed in the pit of my stomach.

"Didn't think you'd be crazy about having a stranger come play bodyguard and get underfoot," he went on. "And if there's one thing the Nords know, it's breeding good dogs. He'll keep you safe without talking your ear off." He tilted his head at the great beast. "Go make friends."

I hesitated, unable to shake the feeling of uncanniness, and the dog watched my approach without moving a muscle.

"Hold out your hand, let him smell you. You've never had a dog, have you?" Caius asked.

I held my hand out a bit, hesitant. "No." The big gray beast got to his feet to sniff at my fingers. "No one in Ald'ruhn did."

"This particular line is about the best there is," Caius explained. "They're bred to be smart, loyal. Very long-lived, too. And good guards for children, so in case you have that little girl early she'll be protected."

The dog tilted his nose so that my hand fell onto the top of his head and my fingers curled into the warm, coarse fur reflexively, as if I'd always had him, as if he'd always been there. _It's you, isn't it? The young man was expecting you to be here_, I thought silently at the dog. "Bastion," I said, softly, and his tail wagged.

Caius went still. "How did you know that? The houndmaster told me his name no more than an hour ago."

I sank to the hearth, my knees going shaky, and I dragged a hand through the fur of the dog's shoulders absently, dazed. A great wet nose snuffled at my ear, my neck, surprising me out of my reverie. "I dreamed it," I told Caius, which was only half a lie, because I'd seen the young man in my dreams and he'd been the one who told me. "After I saw so much at the Temple, that day… after the attack at Ald'ruhn. I dreamed, and saw things." I tried to wrack my brain for what else I'd dreamed, but couldn't get past the memory of the young man in the garden, on his hands and knees in misery.

"Thank you," I said, embarrassed that I'd forgotten to say it earlier. "He's wonderful." Bastion laid his head in my lap and my hand fell automatically to scratch behind his ears.

Caius was still frowning. "I've got to get back to the Temple. If you dream anything else…" His voice went hesitant. "Anything important, or anything true, let me know, would you?"

I nodded and he left, only remembering at the last second that he was still holding my cup and going back to put it on the table before he walked out the door and left me alone again.


	54. Chapter 54

Not every day at Applewatch was quite so eventful as my first, and thank all the gods for that.

Weeks passed in quiet, as my little house became more of a home. I made trips into Bruma, enough that the merchants began to recognize me. Day in and day out, I studied law and history and political theory until my head was full of it. I spent a day roaming the hillside with Bastion, digging new plants out of the rocky ground and eager to experiment, only to remember too late that I hadn't brought any alchemy apparatus with me.

Fortunately the Mages Guild was only a little bit of a walk, the next morning.

I stopped feeling sick at odd times, which was a more than welcome change. Somewhat less joyful was the realization that my trousers didn't fit anymore. I'd known that yes, theoretically, there would be some physical changes to expect. Still, running a hand over the growing curve just below my navel flooded me with emotions I hadn't anticipated: a completely strange kind of love, fear that stuck like glass in my throat, loneliness.

I missed Darius.

I kept myself busy during the days, because as long as my mind or hands were occupied I wouldn't think about how far away he was. How much danger he might be in; I might be in; the whole of Morrowind might be in. At night it ate at me, gnawed at my heart until I was sick with worry. When Bastion started climbing into bed every time I did, it helped. He became more than a guard dog, going from sentinel to companion to friend in the space of a fortnight, always near, quiet and watchful.

I wasn't lacking for company, either. Calla came a few times a week, always well-guarded. Something seemed to settle in her after she moved back into Cloud Ruler Temple, something easy and relaxed that hadn't been there before, as if she was laughing at some private joke. Caius usually came with her, drilling me on what I'd studied, adding new books to the pile or complaining over the way that I'd rearranged my furniture. We played chess, almost every time he came.

I lost every time.

I got two short, tired reports from Darius describing what was going on in Mournhold and the difficulties of trying to get all the Houses to play nice. A notification that a Redoran councilman had offered to sponsor my entrance to his House, and how the next day Hlaalu had sent pair of representatives with a similar offer.

I wasn't inclined to accept either one—I thought neutrality, or at least the pretense of neutrality, would serve me better—but it was something to think about.

Naturally, I had plenty to think about as it was.

-oOo-

Fishing with Calla was an exercise in patience. We'd sat on the bank of the pond for two hours, and the only fish she caught, she threw back. I was bored, but Calla was having a grand time. She kicked her feet on the bank to warm them, tossing a grin over her shoulder at Baurus. "I'm frozen. You'll have to carry me back up the mountain."

"Not likely," Caius said wryly, not looking up from his book.

I sighed, trying not to fidget at the long stillness. "This would go a lot faster if you'd let me electrify the water."

"Cheater," she said. "You're missing the point. Fish are sneaky. You have to lure them out. Charm them out."

"Says the Imperial," I retorted, wishing I'd thought to buy gloves. "Bretons don't have charm. We have to _fry_ them out."

Calla barked a short laugh and looked briefly embarrassed. "Some Bretons have charm."

I eyed her. "Oh?" She only grinned, flushing, her cold-pinkened ears getting pinker. "How goes the grand seduction, then?" I tugged, but my line was stuck on something. I'd probably managed to catch a rock.

She grimaced. "Harder than I thought, actually. It's… " She laughed, but it sounded frustrated. "Nothing's worked yet."

I tugged harder at my line, frowning. "What are you trying?"

"Jumping him in doorways," Baurus answered.

"That was _once_."

I laughed at the mental images that brought to mind. "Calla, you really are going to give him a heart attack."

Her cheeks were getting pink now, too. "I don't know what else to do. It's never been this hard before!"

I let the obvious joke pass and tried not to laugh at her, setting it in my mind as a problem like any other. "Are you sure he _wants_ you?" I asked. "There might just not be anything there."

Baurus chuckled. "He keeps getting flustered and forgetting how to talk like some half-grown kid. There's _something_ there."

"Terror," Caius supplied with grim amusement. "A crazy woman with a sword's trying to jump his ancient bones."

Her face now completely red, Calla huffed. "Tell me, priestess, how the hell am I supposed to do this?"

Baurus cut in, "When a Knight Brother and a Knight Sister love each other very much…"

She threw a rock at him and he dodged. A shaft of sunlight filtered through the bare tree boughs and lit up the surface of the water as I mulled it over. "How did you manage to jump Martin?"

"I'll have you know I didn't jump him. He jumped me."

I raised a brow. "Really."

"Believe it," Caius said absently, still not looking up from his book. "Septim boys are notoriously impossible. They'll jump anything with hips and a pulse. Which I'm sure you'll find out for yourself in about fifteen years."

Calla blinked, stunned. "Wow. Thanks."

"I thought you didn't get along," I protested mildly before Caius could retort and they could argue.

She grimaced. "It's complicated. He was a godsdamned Septim; they're complicated bastards. Jauffre's different. So tell me how to go about this grand seduction business. I've never had to try, before."

I glanced at her. "What, and you think I have?"

"No. Maybe. I don't know. _Help me_," she insisted, glaring at Baurus when he chuckled again.

"Well." I bit the inside of my mouth, considering. "Not that I ever got much practice with seduction at the temple of Azura_, _remember. But if what you're doing isn't working, it's time to switch tactics."

Calla's eyes lit up with interest. "Okay. So… what do I _do?"_

I thought it about a moment, and couldn't help but laugh. When I looked over Caius was watching me curiously, and I leaned in so only Calla could hear and cupped a hand at the side of my mouth so he couldn't read my lips.

-oOo-

Two days after that I was reading in bed, listening to the wind around the house as evening deepened when I caught another sound, out of place in the quiet: hoofbeats drumming their way close. There was a pause, and footsteps crunched in the new-fallen snow, and someone knocked on my door.

Too late for Caius, and he hardly ever knocked, anyway. I frowned, and startled in alarm as the door swung open and a hooded figure walked in. I barely saw Bastion move. I saw a streak of gray, felt the lurch of the bed as he launched himself at the figure, leaping onto his hind legs and pinning the man against the wall.

"Hey!" he shouted in protest.

Darius.

He pushed his hood back, looking wary. "Easy there, big… angry dog. If you _are_ a dog, good gods."

"Bastion, off," I commanded, running Darius' direction with considerably less grace than Bastion had, standing on tiptoe and kissing my husband. My _husband_. It still felt strange. "Hi," I managed thickly when we pulled apart.

He grinned. "Hi." He glanced at Bastion, still wary. "Where'd you get the werewolf?"

"Caius gave him to me." I swallowed hard, nearly overwhelmed at the sudden relief of having him with me. "I didn't know you were coming."

Darius laughed, his cold hands rubbing my shoulders. "It was faster just to come than to send a messenger. I missed you."

I kissed him again in answer, longer than before, letting go only reluctantly when he stepped back with an apologetic groan. "I… damn. I rode hard all the way here, I can't just leave the horse overnight. I've got to…"

I sighed, inwardly, understanding. "I'll help you," I said, pulling my cloak off its hook and leading the way back outside, a spell illuminating the way to the little stable and banishing the darkness.

-oOo-

Dawn broke oddly over the mountains. I felt it before I saw it, tugging at me and telling me the sun was up before it ever rose over the peaks. Most days I watched, dawn and dusk in a private vigil. With Calla if she was here, with Bastion if she wasn't. I didn't watch that morning but I felt when the sun came up, felt night turn into day as I lay in silence, warm in bed with an arm curled around me, listening to the sound of Darius' breathing as he slept.

Until Bastion got up from his spot in front of the hearth to look expectant and pant in my face. I still didn't know enough about him to know if that look meant _food_ or _out_, but it was almost surely one of the two.

"Five more minutes," I murmured at him, and though his ears ticked up at my voice he still watched me hopefully before he turned to scratch at the door, whimpering. Out, then. I sighed and tried to slip out from under Darius' arm without waking him. I didn't even bother to put on a robe—I was only going to get up long enough to open the damned door, let the dog out, and sprint back to bed—but that plan died as I opened the door to find Calla just about to knock from the other side.

Naturally, Baurus and Caius were with her.

I was too bleary and dull to do what I should have done, which was slam the door in their faces. In my moment of hesitation, though, Calla bounded in, grinning. "_Look_ at you!" Her hands were like blocks of ice, and she practically tackled me to hold my belly. "You're really pregnant! I didn't notice when you had clothes on."

"Calla. _Off_," I told her, the same as I would have told Bastion, but Bastion was better trained. I pushed her hands off my skin. "Give us a minute," I said, and slammed the door—belatedly—on Baurus and Caius, which bought me enough time to get dressed.

Darius sat up in bed at the noise, looking surprised when Calla sat down beside him. "I was thinking of something yesterday," she told me. "You're going to be the mother of Martin's kid."

"Because that's not weird at all," Darius mumbled, still groggy.

She kissed him noisily on the cheek. "It makes you the father of _my_ kid."

He made a face. "I thought that was the point, yeah."

I finished dressing and opened the door for the two Blades outside. "You're in a good mood," I told Calla.

She gave a lopsided smile. "And you're a genius. He's probably still wondering what hit him. Ten gold he can hardly walk this morning."

Darius looked from Calla to me, confused. "Who?"

"Jauffre," she told him, dimpling, and then at his expression, "Yes, _that_ Jauffre."

"Should we go?" Caius cut in, amused but serious. "I know you probably don't have long to stay."

Darius considered it. "No. I have to leave tomorrow," he said, looking at me. "But for a few hours, some company wouldn't hurt."

Caius nodded. "We'll be gone by noon." He handed me a letter. "This came for you."

The seal was broken—no surprise—but once I recognized the handwriting I scanned the contents quickly, biting my lip. When I finished, Darius was watching me. "Everything all right?"

"Fine," I managed. "It's… my mother. She's coming to stay with me. For two weeks."

Gods help us all, I thought, but kept it to myself.

-oOo-

When Darius came to see me, I learned, it would require at least one and likely two or three additional days of travel. Getting to the Imperial City from Mournhold was easy enough with a mage on retainer for the purpose, but she couldn't send him to Bruma and he couldn't find another mage to employ who could. It's not as though he had all the time in the world to look for a replacement, either. From the Imperial City, he'd either have to wait for a mage who could send him to Bruma or ride on horseback, and since there was no one in Bruma who could send him back, the return trip would always have to be by horse.

Listening to him describe the difficulties of the situation, I heard what he was too reluctant to say explicitly: he wouldn't be able to come often. Probably only a few more times over the course of our separation.

It made the prospect of the time ahead loom even longer, somehow.

-oOo-

Two days into my mother's visit, I realized I actually liked her.

Not that I didn't love her, but we hadn't spent so much time together in such close proximity since I was seventeen, and back then matters between us had been strained to snapping. Now the silences were companionable instead of frosty, and she smiled easily and often, and at the smallest of things.

I felt guilty for my original dread at her letter, though some part of me had half-expected her to show up at the farmhouse and announce that I was doing everything wrong: that my pantry wasn't well-organized, that my little chest of potions was pathetically understocked, that I was somehow going about the business of being pregnant all wrong. But that second evening we sat together at my table, drinking honey-sweet tea from the painted cups she'd brought and listening to the crackle of the fire as Cedric slept. "Did Brennan come see you?" I asked, breaking the easy silence and shifting in my chair.

"Came and left in a hurry. Spent most of his time in the chapel, though."

Marie. I smiled. "Did he head back to Morrowind yet?"

"No." A worried look flitted over her features, a shadow of concern. "Anvil."

Anvil… I tried to remember what I'd read of the place. A harbor town at the far west of Cyrodiil, if memory served. "Why would he go to Anvil?"

My mother frowned. "You've not heard, then? About the attack on the chapel."

"No. What happened?"

Mother frowned into the depths of her tea. "All the priests and priestesses in the chapel of Dibella were murdered. No one knows who, or why, or how. Brennan went to look into it. A couple weeks ago, now."

"And you're worried about him," I said slowly. It wasn't a question.

"I'm… yes." Her hand twisted a napkin reflexively as she looked at me, troubled. "If there's someone murdering priests of the Nine, and there's a pair of unguarded priests out there looking for them… I worry."

"A pair?"

Her smile was a little strained, but there was genuine amusement behind it. "Marie went with him. Didn't give him any choice in the matter, either, as I understand it. Told him she knew Cyrodiil like the back of her hand and how illogical it would be for him to go alone when he was so new to the province."

I smiled a bit, but before I could come up with a response I caught the sound of hoofbeats thundering close, the sound of boots crunching in the snow, and the creak of hinges as the door was flung open and then the dark man from Cheydinhal appeared in my doorway, looking angry as the deepest, blackest hell.


	55. Chapter 55

I had been the Nerevarine's companion on Vvardenfell. I had been called the Emissary of Azura and made the Queen of Morrowind.

None of that mattered to my mother.

Before any one of us could move she'd tossed off a volley of spells, one to calm Bastion and one to silence both me and the man. And then, illustrious titles or no, I had been deposited on my own doorstep like a sack of rice, the door closed and bolted behind me, and all she'd said by way of explanation was that this didn't _concern me_.

"He left me to die, once," I informed Bastion grimly once the silence spell wore off. "You've got my permission to take his arms off if you want. Mother will get over it." I shivered in the breeze, glaring at my door. "None of my fetching _concern_. Like he came over for tea and sweetrolls."

I know he had no idea what I was saying, but it seemed to me like Bastion agreed.

"I'd just stay in Bruma but all my gold's inside," I complained, and Bastion's ears perked up at my sigh. "We could always go to the castle, I suppose, meet Countess Carvain. Have our little introduction, hi, I'm the Queen of Morrowind and my mother kicked me out of my own house to have a chat with an assassin, can I sleep over at your place?" I groaned. "This is _pathetic_." With nothing else to do I leaned back against the door and squinted up the mountain, barely able to make out Cloud Ruler Temple above, resigned to worrying as the time ticked by.

-oOo-

I woke up falling backwards onto the man's boots when the door was opened unexpectedly. He was not impressed.

"Alora," my mother sighed, peering down at me around the bundle tied to her body with a little frown. "What are you doing down there?"

I blinked, swallowing the thickness of sleep from my voice as I scrambled to my feet. "You locked me out, remember? I fell asleep."

Even in the thin starlight I could see the tension around her eyes. "We're leaving, love. Come in for a moment, would you?"

She shut the door behind us with a little kick, leaving the man outside, and I could see now that the bundle against her chest was Cedric, awake but quiet in a makeshift sling. "Listen," she said intently, stepping close. "This is very important, do you understand?"

I was still nearly half-asleep but I nodded, trying to jolt myself alert.

"I have to go. There'll be a Breton coming to Applewatch in the next day or two. He won't be expecting you, but it's essential you tell him to find me."

I wondered if this Breton was an assassin as well. "What's going on?"

"In this instance, the less you know the safer you are. Tell the Breton to find me, and it will all be over."

"Is this about Alain?"

She grimaced. "I hope not. I truly do." She adjusted Cedric in the sling. "There's nothing for you to worry about. Send the Breton on to me; that's all you need to do. I'll have someone come for my things later. I'm sorry I couldn't stay longer."

She left, the door closing behind her and after a minute I heard the sound of hoofbeats picking their way over the rocky ground.

I sank into a chair, wondering at my mother's choice of company and hoping fervently that I'd misread the situation and I wouldn't be getting any more assassins for guests.

-oOo-

Caius stopped by the next morning.

"Calla's a bit under the weather," he said without preamble as he came through my door. "She's hoping to come out tomorrow. Your mother left in a hurry, didn't she?" He eyed the bags she'd left behind before sitting at my table and helping himself to the breakfast I'd just made. "Sentry said you had a visitor last night. Rode up in a hurry and left with an extra passenger." He glanced up at me. "Care to explain?"

Not really, no. "Friend of my mother's," I said.

Caius' eyebrows rose a moment. "_Old_ friend?" I sat down across from him at the table, Bastion curling up at my feet, and I slipped a piece of ham under the table. Caius gave a half-smile at that. "Do try not to do that at official functions, would you?"

I smiled, as much from the enthusiastic smacking sound coming from around my knee as from the mental images of horrified nobles. "I'm not promising anything."

He smiled, but wouldn't be dissuaded. "So about this visitor," he continued, spearing a piece of honeyed bread, "is he an old friend?"

I frowned, not quite understanding. "She said she used to wipe his miserable little bottom. So I suppose he's an old friend. Why?"

He didn't answer. "Did she leave with him willingly?"

"Yes." I wrapped my hands around my mug to warm them, unsettled. "She said there was nothing to worry about."

He scowled, faintly. "Your mother's a fool." At my expression he continued, "Just because you've known a lion since the day you were born doesn't mean it won't ever turn on you and tear you to pieces. If she's attracting the Dark Brotherhood to your doorstep she's failing you as a mother. Don't look so surprised, I know what she is," he said grimly.

My throat had gone dry. "Do you?"

"Yes." He leaned back in his chair. "The Empire happens to be very good at maintaining a bureaucracy. Including record-keeping."

I frowned uncomfortably. "What do records have to do with my mother?"

"Everything." He took a long drink of tea. "Your mother's from Skingrad, or close to it, from her accent. But she's not on the census, and two were taken in the time I'm guessing she was raised there. Officially, she didn't exist until she got on the boat to Morrowind. So it follows that she was raised off the record and out of sight of the law."

I sat silent.

"Records indicate she was never in the Mages Guild, but she's got a particular knack for alchemy. It's how she came to my attention in the first place, if you'll recall. But she was running a shop within a month of coming to Vvardenfell, already remarkably accomplished, especially with poisons. So it's something she learned before then, when she was living off the record in Cyrodiil. Now," he grimaced, "that leads us me to believe she probably learned poisoning from the time she was a child. That someone _taught_ her poisoning from the time she was a child. From her ship records, she went to Vvardenfell alone. And what does Vvardenfell have? The Morag Tong. And not the Dark Brotherhood."

Bastion licked at my fingers hopefully, and I slipped him another piece of ham, feeling numb.

"Information," Caius concluded, "is only information until you put it together, until you use it. From the evidence, I'd guess that your mother was some sort of poisoner in the Dark Brotherhood—or was supposed to be—and ran away to Vvardenfell to hide. How close am I?"

I could only nod mutely.

It didn't satisfy him. "The trouble with her riding off willingly with an old friend, a _childhood_ friend…" He grimaced. "People tend to return to what they're familiar with, whether it's good for them or not. Because it's what they know." He scowled at the tabletop. "If your mother's childhood familiarity is with the Dark Brotherhood you've got to think she might go back to them."

I opened my mouth to protest and found I couldn't.

Caius noticed. "Best not to delude yourself about it."

I shivered, though I wasn't cold. "How long have you known?"

"About your mother? A while." He looked thoughtful. "At the time, her affiliations weren't an issue. She seemed to be working only for herself and any unpleasantness seemed to be in the past. And she wasn't ever privy to any sensitive information. Now, the situation's different. Now her affiliations might be catching up with you, and that's unacceptable." He frowned. "There's too much at stake and she can't possibly know the half of it. Be careful," he warned.

I swallowed around the lump in my throat. "I will."

He wasn't mollified. "You can't trust your mother to look out for you, you know. You'll have to look out for yourself."

"I know," I said, not meeting his eyes. "I'll do what I have to."

"I know you will." He crossed to the other side of the room, coming back with the chessboard and the drawstring bag of pieces, and we played for the rest of the morning.

-oOo-

It was luck that saved me, I think. Luck that I woke up before dawn the next morning, startled from sleep by the fluttering low in my belly; luck that I was too excited to sleep at the sensation of my child's first stirrings and got up early to eat; luck that Caius had eaten half my food the day before and that I had to make an impromptu trek into Bruma to restock.

Luck that I wasn't home when the assassins came.

It was still morning when I returned, picking my way up the path toward my house. There were already people there, four of them, robed and hooded in black. They stalked around the exterior of the farmhouse and stomped carelessly over my newly-sprouted lettuces.

Looking for someone, obviously, with daggers drawn.

The sight of them made my blood run cold. I crouched behind a thick tree, dragging Bastion with me and hushing him when he gave a low growl, and for long minutes we watched the figures prowl around my garden, milling around and arguing in sharp voices. Then after a while, they seemed to come to some agreement. One by one they disappeared into Applewatch, the door swinging shut behind them.

I couldn't go home.

The seconds dragged by as I crouched there with Bastion, uncertain and angry and watching the house for any sign of what to do next. I couldn't go in there. Spells or not, element of surprise or not, against four determined assassins I wasn't sure I'd come out the winner. I could always go up the mountain and hope someone from Cloud Ruler Temple came out… but I winced at the thought. If Caius knew there were four killers staked out in my house, he'd be convinced that it wasn't safe, and I'd have to leave.

It was my house. I didn't want to be forced out.

I hid my big pack of supplies behind a rock, covering it with a nearby fallen branch. Whispering an invisibility spell that hid us both from sight, I crept with Bastion around to the back of my house, willing him to be silent as I crouched below the shutter.

The assassins were arguing. "He obviously just hasn't arrived yet," a man snapped. I wondered if this was the Breton I was supposed to send on to my mother. But she hadn't mentioned anything about his companions.

"Hasn't arrived yet, with a two-day head start?" a woman sneered. "Don't be a fool. He's obviously already come and gone. Which means that _someone_ must have told him we were coming. You were one of his for years, weren't you, Bellamont?"

There was a frosty silence. "What are you suggesting?"

_"Suggesting_ has nothing to do with it—"

"Enough." Another voice cut in, male and deep. "Look around you. There's no evidence he's been here." There was a pause. "Someone's been here, obviously, but there's no blood, no sign of him at all. If he'd ridden here from Bravil he would have been here already. We have to consider that the mention of Applewatch might have been a trick."

There was a protracted silence, brittle with tension. Finally the deep-voiced man spoke again. "What _exactly_ did the beggar say?"

Footsteps, the scraping of a chair across the wooden floor. "That Lachance told Blanchard to go to Anvil, and said he'd go to Applewatch. The conversation took place in broad daylight in the middle of town. Hardly Lachance's style. It's not unlikely he knew he would be listened to and gave false information intentionally."

Someone sighed. "And if it's true, we've lost another two days."

"I think it likely," the deep-voiced man began slowly, "that Lachance is in Anvil. If matters are so urgent, he would not have been so careless as to send his Silencer alone. He'll not likely hide somewhere on his own if he thinks he might be cornered. He'll have backup. And Lachance's Silencer would be a formidable ally. The two of them together…"

"We should head to Anvil then, with all haste."

"No."

A pause before the voice came again, dripping venom. "I beg your pardon?"

"This is obviously a trick."

"We've established that. And we've already lost enough time. There is nothing to gain and everything to lose by delay. Unless you have _evidence_…?"

Another long hesitation. Finally, a sigh, tight and unhappy: "Very well."

I heard the door open and buried my hands in Bastion's fur to keep him still, shushing him as I heard footsteps dwindle into the distance. I counted off ten minutes in my head before I dared get to my feet, stiff with cold as I braced myself against the wall.

They were gone, truly gone.

I let out a breath in relief, fetching my hidden pack and wondering as I put my new-bought food away with shaking hands if my mother had known the assassins would come.

-oOo-

Calla did look a little pale, later, but she'd come out anyway, ebullient as ever as she tracked mud all over my floors. She stayed most of the afternoon, playing with Bastion, bickering with Caius, eating everything I put in front of her and then rummaging around my cupboard for more.

I was surprised by the knock on my door a scarce hour after she'd left, wary that it was an assassin. It wasn't. "Look at you!" Brennan beamed when I opened the door. "You look lovely!"

I flushed as I hugged him. "You're sweet to say so. I don't feel lovely. Hi, Marie."

She smiled as she walked in behind Brennan, breaking into a grin at the sight of Bastion. "Oh, what a fantastic dog. May I pet him?"

I nodded and she held out a hand. He barely sniffed her before his shaggy tail began thumping the floor, and he lurched to his feet to butt his nose against Brennan's hand, demanding attention.

I'd been expecting assassins, and I'd gotten nearly the exact opposite. "What are you doing all the way up here?" I asked, grinning widely. "I'm practically off the map. Not that I'm not happy to see you, of course."

Brennan grinned, tugging off his gloves with his teeth and stretching his hands out to the fire to warm them. "Pilgrimage. Wandering Cyrodiil talking to birds and taking advice from foxes, listening to the Nine and not taking baths."

Marie snorted. "We've been rain-soaked often enough to count, I think. It's so good to be out of the wind."

I moved to my counter, collecting cups for tea. "Are you hungry?"

Brennan laughed, ruffling Bastion's fur affectionately. "Always, these days. I don't even know how far we've walked. I could eat a horse."

"I can make soup," I offered. "I have potatoes and onions. And bread."

"Oh, bless you," Marie breathed, sitting down with a sigh and trying to push her hair into some kind of order.

I pulled vegetables from my pantry. "How long can you stay?"

"We can't impose long," said Brennan. "I just wanted to see you. There's one last wayshrine I need to go by. We're heading there in the morning. It's a bit south of Bruma."

I considered, pulling over a knife. "You'd be welcome to stay the night, if you wanted." They shared a glance, Marie pleading, Brennan questioning. "Of course, I only have the one bed," I said, smothering a grin at the brief flush that crept up Brennan's neck.

"I've slept on rocks, in caves, on the side of the road," he laughed tiredly. "The floor in front of your fire with a roof over my head sounds like a luxury at the moment."

"For _you_, maybe," Marie said, looking grateful as I handed her a mug of tea. "If it's all the same to your sister I'll share the bed. I don't snore," she assured me.

Brennan chuckled, settling into a chair with a smile. "Not out of the chapel a month and already in bed with a daedra worshipper. What would the Primate think?"

A rosy glow crept into her cheeks. "If the Primate knew what was good for him he'd consider the context of the situation and not jump to conclusions. But since he won't, _you're_ not going to tell him."

He grinned. "I'm not?"

Marie raised an eyebrow. "Worthy knight or not, I _will_ thump you. I'm not helping you for my health, you know."

"I know." He stirred honey into his tea, glancing at her fondly. "I'm grateful, you know I am."

She gave an amused little _harrumph_. "You'd better be."

-oOo-

"_Dwemer _runes?" I asked skeptically later that evening as he told me about the situation at the Chapel of Dibella.

"Painted in blood around the altar," Brennan confirmed, his eyes shadowed. "I saw it myself."

I bit my lip, thinking. "What did they say?"

Marie's voice was toneless. "It was Ayleid. _By the eternal power of Umaril, the mortal gods shall be cast down_."

I frowned. "Umaril."

Brennan looked tired. "Ring any bells?"

"No." I scratched Bastion's ears absently. "Nothing. I can look into it."

Marie tapped a nail against the side of her mug. "According to the _Song of Pelinal_, he's allied with Meridia. The chapel… it might have been attacked by daedra."

Both of them looked at me, half-hopeful, but I didn't have any answers. "I'll look into it," I said again. "What happens when you're done with the wayshrines?"

They shared another glance, uncertain. "Well," Brennan said finally. "If all goes well, we'll get the relics. If not…" he shrugged, looking weary. The silence stretched uncomfortably until Bastion poked his nose above the edge of the table in an attempt to steal the crust of Brennan's bread. Brennan laughed and gave it to him, but he never finished his sentence.

-oOo-

They left early the next morning, walking down the path side-by-side in the brightening dawn.

I sat on my doorstep with Bastion, drinking tea and watching them go, smiling when I saw Marie reach out and take my brother's hand as they passed out of sight.

In their absence, I felt more alone than I had before they'd come until Bastion snuffled against my knee, pressing close and laying his head in my lap. "You're a good boy," I murmured, stroking his ears, watching his wiry fur part under my fingers. "I'm glad Caius brought you to me." His tail thumped against the door as he wriggled closer, trying to worm his way into my lap.

It would have worked if my lap wasn't smaller than normal, and if he wasn't as big as I was.

"Come on," I told him. "Let's go back in before my toes freeze."

-oOo-

That afternoon there was another knock on my door. I half expected it to be Brennan, returned from the wayshrine for soup and a place to stay the night.

It was the Breton.

He didn't look like an assassin, I thought. His brown hair was streaked with gold from the sun, his clothes were brown and clean, and there were the beginnings of smile lines around his eyes. He quirked an eyebrow at the sight of me, standing in my own doorway, speechless. "Well." A grin slid across his mouth. "Aren't you a surprise."


	56. Chapter 56

Bastion growled behind my hip. The Breton merely raised an eyebrow. "You going to stand there all day, or are you going to say something?"

"You're the Breton," I managed.

He laughed. "I'm _a_ Breton. This is going to take a while, isn't it? Let me in, then, it's bloody damp out here."

Assassin in my house: bad idea. "No," I said, firing up a spell and feeling lightning crackle in my fingers. "You'll get your information and you'll go."

His expression shifted at the sight of my spell. "Not very friendly, love. Destruction, is it?"

A thrumming pulse of magicka and a dremora appeared at his side, knocking open my door and pushing me back. "Hold the dog," the Breton ordered, and the daedra restrained a furious Bastion with a glare. "I prefer conjuration, myself," the Breton continued conversationally, closing the door behind him and settling down in a chair as he casually propped his boots on my table. "So refreshing to find a sorceress for once instead of some idiot waving around a toothpick of a dagger and thinking they're a threat. You never see that sort of magical initiative anymore." He glanced over at his conjured dremora. "All right over there?"

The dremora sneered.

The Breton laughed. "Come on, love, what say you call off your dog and I'll call off my daedra? You fetch me a bowl of whatever that is that smells so nice and once I've eaten—and after you've explained to me why you're not the man I was supposed to meet—I'll be on my merry way."

I scowled a moment, deeply uneasy at the thought of an assassin in my house, but he hadn't tried to kill me yet, and hadn't killed Bastion though it would have been simpler. If all else failed, I could fire off a spell quick enough, I thought. I wouldn't be caught off-guard again. "Bastion," I ordered. "Come."

The dremora faded away in a puff of smoke as Bastion growled, slinking to my heels. "He was here," I told the Breton. "Lachance?" That was the name the assassins had said, wasn't it?

The Breton nodded, frowning.

"You're to find Cienne Sintieve, in Skingrad, to find him. She runs an alchemy shop."

His brow wrinkled in thought. "Any word on _why_ the change of plans?"

I spooned soup into a bowl, still keeping a wary eye on him as I handed it over. "I wasn't privy to that information."

He took a bite and winced at the heat, but kept eating anyway. "He _does_ like his secrets, doesn't he?"

It wasn't really a question, and I didn't know how to answer. I settled for standing near the hearth instead, watching him cautiously.

"Was he followed?" he asked after a moment, helping himself to my cup of tea.

I frowned, not understanding.

"Did anyone come after him? Have any other assassins shown up at your doorstep?"

I hesitated. "I already told you what I was instructed to say."

He raised an eyebrow. "Have you, then. Well. I don't suppose you'd have survived if the Black Hand had beaten down your door." At my silence, he shrugged and kept eating, until minutes later he caught me still watching him and seemed amused. "I'm not on display, love. Unless you see something you like?"

"No."

He laughed at me. "You're a prickly little thing. What are you doing out here all alone, eh?"

I didn't answer.

When he finished eating he pushed to his feet, stepping away from the table with a wry look. "You like your secrets too, I'd imagine. Well, then. Thank you for the meal and that tidbit of information. Cienne Sintieve, Skingrad, Alchemist," he repeated, looking satisfied at my nod. "Excellent. Good day." He gave a polite nod and he walked out my door without looking back, closing it behind him. I heard footsteps disappear around the house, and after a minute an abrupt cadence of hoofbeats as he kicked his horse into a run.

I sank into the chair he'd vacated, as bewildered by the whole thing as I was relieved that it was over.

-oOo-

I struggled late into the evening with the knitting needles, determined to get my hands to move in the same way the trader's had. It had looked so much easier when she'd done it. I fumbled for a while, missing stitches, and the ball of yarn rolled off my lap and bounced across my floor in a long trail of string.

I had just stood up to get it when my door flew open, a dark figure edged in moonlight standing in the doorway: the vampire from Cheydinhal.

Fear exploded in my stomach as Bastion startled from sleep and leapt at him with a snarl, jaws open wide. He was tossed aside with inhuman strength, crumpling to the floor with a sickening thud and lying in a heap, unmoving.

The vampire dodged the furious spell I threw at him, closed the distance and wrenched my arm around my back hard enough I wondered wildly if the bone would snap. "Where's Lucien?" he demanded tightly, all semblance of civility gone.

My heart hammered in terror. "Who?" Another push, twisting my arm harder and I cried out in pain, firing off a spell unthinking, but it was weak from lack of focus and washed over his skin without doing much harm.

"Don't play stupid," he growled, releasing me with a jerk. I barely caught myself from tumbling headlong into the stones of the hearth, one of my hands landing in the ash-bucket as I tried not to fall. The firelight made the vampire seem to glow red, a horrifying vision of unnatural death.

"I don't _know_ anyone named Lucien," I insisted, voice shaking. "You're supposed to be dead!"

His expression was murderous. "Am I?"

My fingers clenched around the ashes. "Alain _said_ you were dead," I bit out, feeling a small hit of satisfaction at his expression of surprise, jumping up as quickly as I could in the moment he hesitated. I tossed the ashes into his eyes with one hand and followed it up with a punch on the mouth from the other, pain blossoming in my hand and jolting up to my shoulder as I connected and then scrambled to flee.

He reeled backwards, just a moment, but quicker than I'd counted on he recovered and caught me, his hands tightening around my throat and choking the air out of me. His expression was grim, his eyes streaming and even redder than before. "So a traitor's been feeding you information, has he? False information, but information nonetheless. What else has he told you?"

His grip loosened enough for me to answer but not enough for me to get free. I didn't answer. I shot off my strongest shock spell instead, pushing it into his skin and taking in a gulp of air as he fell to the ground, wounded but not dead.

Panic bubbled at the back of my throat and black hovered at the edges of my vision as I tried to lurch out of the house, hesitating and sick with fear as my eye fell on Bastion's body.

The hesitation cost me. I'd only barely gotten to the door when a hand came over my mouth and another around my neck again, dragging me backwards. I struggled, kicking out and biting at his palm trying to jerk myself free, but the world had gone airless and rigid, etched with pain, and as blackness rushed up and took me all I could hear was thunder.

-oOo-

I woke up and wished I hadn't. Wracked with fever and immobilized by an unnatural fatigue, I could barely open my eyes, much less lift my head. The world swam in my slitted field of vision like waves of heat, shimmering and contorted as I tried to remember…

The vampire.

Bastion.

Dread pooled in my belly at the memory of his crumpled body in a heap on my floor, but this wasn't the time for panic or grief. I let a hand fall to the ground, my fingers feeling immensely heavy as I pushed them along in search of information.

Rock beneath me, cold and smooth, devoid of any flora. With an effort I turned my head, trying to peer up at the sky, but it wasn't sky above me. In the flickering torchlight I could see rock curving up above me, hear water dripping somewhere. A cave?

I'd been taken, then. I didn't know where.

My entire body ached, chilled and burning at the same time, but bright points of pain stood out like ugly stars: my neck, tender and bruised, my twisted arm, my hand. It took two tries to move it, to bring it up to my face, as unresponsive and leaden as though the limb didn't belong to me at all. When I finally managed to get it close I could see a split in my knuckles, black around the edges, red and angry with infection.

I tried to remember, struggling against the crushing weight of fatigue. He'd come in. He'd dodged a spell. The memory shimmered like something out of a nightmare, warped like heat-waves in Oblivion.

I'd punched him in the mouth. And cut my hand, apparently, though I didn't remember doing it. On a fang, maybe? Pieces of information clicked together slowly in my muddled brain. I was infected. _Porphyric Hemophilia_, I thought, the words sounding like something from a language I'd once known but now couldn't remember.

Normally, I think, I would have panicked, but I could barely keep myself awake. Priorities, I tried to think. One thing at a time. Get out of the cave. Get away from the vampire. Get cured. And then…

I didn't know what then.

I was too drained for frustration even at the formidable effort it took to lift my head, to roll over onto my stomach and look around, trying to push myself up on arms that felt like jelly.

It _was_ a cave. I could see the door some forty feet away, sunlight glowing brightly around the edges of it. I needed to get out there. If I could get outside, he couldn't follow me into the sunlight, couldn't follow me for hours.

I started for the door, crawling as quietly as I could and willing my muscles to move, feeling like my joints had turned to water. One inch at a time. One half-inch at a time. Everything blurred, swam together in my near-delirium, pulsed with red heat as I crept along the ground, keeping my eyes on the door.

I'd gone perhaps six or seven feet when a boot planted into my shoulder, halting my progress and pushing me into the ground. "No, I don't think so." With an effort, I turned my head to look at the vampire and felt another shiver of fear and confusion as he began to unfasten his belt. He crouched once he had the belt free and I felt leather wrap just above my elbows, pulled painfully tight as he bound my arms together behind my back, effectively putting an end to my attempt at escape.

The world spun as I was turned over. Black flickered in spots before my eyes, my own pulse roared in my ears, and I felt breath on my neck and a soft scrape of metal and stone. The necklace, wound around my throat, in the way. Not for long. The chain snapped easily when he tugged it away with a wrenching lurch of loss as the enchantment was torn from my skin. Something sharp was at my neck, and panic rose up in a hot swell of nausea before everything went dark again.

-oOo-

Time slipped away from me, though I was barely aware of its passing.

I couldn't always tell when I was awake or when I slept. I was aware of cold, of the sound of a horse running, the blur of motion. Of being tumbled in an endless river of dreams, horrifying visions of blood and death. The cold, slack faces of the people I loved, bodies twisted in agony, eyes empty and dead. Oblivion with red, sticky blood instead of lava, pools of blood, rivers of blood, oceans. It poured from the sky, from my eyes, from the dead heart of the world.

I ached and burned, air rasping in my lungs with every breath. I tried to twist away from the fever that scorched me but I was utterly unable, blood soaking my nightgown and making it cling to me like someone else's skin.

The smeared sense of rushing motion passed, replaced by a cold tomblike darkness, sucking the heat from my skin as I lay on stone. People came, once or twice. I remember them talking to me, nudging me with sharp things as if they could poke answers out of me, but I couldn't understand their words at all.

They left me alone, finally, to rest my head against the stones and wait.

Towards the end the fever abated, a little. No one was around to see it but it left me gasping, reeling with exhaustion and weakness as the worst of the delirium passed. Light shone from a crack near the floor, flickering brighter, and then the door opened and I cringed away from the blinding glare of the light, squinting as it seemed to scorch the backs of my eyes. I heard a gasp that sounded familiar and my mother's voice, wavering in horror. "_Alora?_" She raced over, casting a strong light spell that made me shy away, and I grimaced when she took my face in her hands. "Oh, sweetheart."

_Get away from me_, I wanted to snarl, recoiling from her as much as I could.

I heard Lachance's voice, cold and irritated. "_This_ is your informant?"

"This was the woman staying where _you_ should have been," I heard the vampire retort with equal ire. "She claimed not to know you and spoke of Alain. She might have sensitive information."

"Alain's dead," my mother said, voice cracking in distress. Her face fell as I opened my eyes. "Oh, sw…"

"Don't," I managed to grit out, hardly recognizing my own voice. I couldn't remember when I'd last had water; my throat was cracked and raw. "Don't."

"Good heavens, Valtieri, she's the one that caused you so much trouble?" a familiar voice drawled, amused, and I looked up to find the Breton smirking at us all. "Truly, a ferocious warrior to have injured a fighter of your caliber. And so dangerous you had to tie her up? My." He grinned at me. "I might have misjudged you, love."

I flinched away from my mother as her fingertips brushed the side of my neck. "Don't touch me." She looked sick. _Get me out of here_, I wished at her silently. _Just get me out of here and I'll never have to look at any of you again._

"How long ago did you infect her?" she asked, turning to glare at the vampire.

He grimaced. "It was not done intentionally. This is entirely her own fault."

My mother's grip on me tightened reflexively and I tried to squirm away. "How _long?_"

He shrugged. "Two and a half days, perhaps?"

"Perhaps," my mother repeated grimly, her eyes searching my face. "Blanchard. Go fetch a curative potion, now."

Another voice, one I didn't recognize from a woman standing out of sight: "There's none in the sanctuary. There are ingredients, though. I know we have some clannfear claws."

My mother winced even as I did. "Clannfear claws take six hours to prepare," she said, looking me over with worried eyes. "Sweetheart, I don't think you've got six hours. You know she's _pregnant_," she turned again to snap at the vampire. "You know what happens if she turns?"

He shrugged again, unconcerned. "As I said, this is not my doing."

The Breton—Blanchard?—rolled his eyes. "If it's as bad as all that, why are you leaving her tied up on the floor? I swear, none of you have any sense at all." He stepped around to hoist me up with the aid of a feather spell, holding me lightly. "Now if you'd all just get out of the way and stop standing around like a bunch of bug-eyed chickens, perhaps we could move this somewhere more comfortable?"

"_Tone_, Silencer," Lachance warned as he stepped aside.

"Just saved your wretched life, Speaker," Blanchard retorted easily. "You'll forgive a bit of cheek. And as I recall, I was just promoted."

I was silent as he walked, avoiding my mother's worried gaze to focus on a button on Blanchard's coat, instead.

"Here, then." He set me on a rug in a much larger room, working at the belt tied around my arms. "Try not to be _too _afraid, Valtieri. I'm unleashing the monster."

I suppressed a noise of pain as my stiff arms came free, biting my already-bloody lip and glaring at the vampire as I tried to rub feeling back into my hands, unsteady with fever and exhaustion. "Give it back."

He looked wary. "I beg your pardon."

"You stole my necklace," I gritted out, trying to sound threatening and failing. "I need it."

Blanchard looked amused. "You stole her necklace, Valtieri? For shame."

The vampire frowned in annoyance. "It was in the way." He fished in a pocket.

Lachance turned his forbidding look on my mother. "A word," he said, and it didn't sound like a request. She followed him off down the hall, looking back at me anxiously as she went.

Blanchard caught the necklace when the vampire tossed it at him. "It's broken," he protested, examining the silver chain. "Valtieri, I thought you were a gentleman." The vampire was not amused. "So much for restraint, I suppose," Blanchard mused, fiddling with the links and sparing me a glance. "Why'd you tell Valtieri you didn't know who the Speaker was?"

"He didn't ask if I knew the Speaker," I replied numbly, digging my fingers into the rug and trying to figure out which of the doors might lead outside. I couldn't tell; they mostly looked alike. But… I tried to make out the shape from the shadows, to see if that really was a ladder in that niche or if it was my imagination. "He asked where Lucien was. I don't know a Lucien."

To my dull surprise, Blanchard laughed. "Here, then, good as new." It wasn't, not really. The soft metal had been warped, stretched apart and pushed inexpertly back together, but it was close enough. When he handed it back I slipped it around my neck, fastening it in place. With my head ducked, still pretending to work the clasp of my necklace, I eyed the niche. That _was_ a ladder. And there was a thin glow of sunlight filtering down from somewhere above it.

I startled at the sound of raised voices from down the hall: Lachance, and my mother. Blanchard stood, trying to listen, curious. "What's _that_ about?"

Valtieri shook his head, once, listening, frowning as he concentrated.

Neither of them were paying any attention to me. It was as good a chance as I could hope for. _I hope you're right, Mother_, I thought as I collected myself for the effort, slipping into an invisibility spell, not daring to breathe as I pushed to my feet. _I hope you're not in any danger._

Because I couldn't help her.

I was almost all the way up the ladder by the time I was caught, but I couldn't stop climbing. When a hand snatched at my ankle I kicked out in blind panic, pushing open the well cover only long enough to collapse on the other side, face-first into the dirt. Sunlight streamed down from above like the blessing of the gods and I was never more grateful in my life to be sitting in it.

I could have cried in relief, but I couldn't stop, couldn't wait. Even if the vampire couldn't follow me up here, the others could, and I doubted they'd be happy about my escape. I forced myself up and invisible, trying to think around the roaring of blood in my head. I needed cured. Though the sun's glare in my eyes was painful, I could make out the spire of the chapel looming above the rooftops and I started that way automatically, taking a few steps before I remembered that I couldn't go inside, not even for healing.

The Mages Guild, then, though I remembered the vampire saying before that the Mages Guild in Cheydinhal was nearly useless… but it was my best chance. Still invisible and shaking from fatigue, I started down a street, only vaguely remembering where the Guild was and hoping I ran across it soon.

I didn't find the Guild. I found better: an alchemist's shop that hadn't been there months ago. The sign outside looked like a gift from Azura herself, and I pushed my way inside with a prayer of thanks on my lips. The proprietress looked up from her book and startled upright at the sight of me. "Sweet Mara," she breathed, horrified. "What happened to _you?_"

"It's a long story," I managed to croak. "I need…"

I needed _something_. I tried to wrestle the thought out of the blood-haze in my head. A cure, I remembered, at the same time she offered, "Cure disease potion?"

I nodded. "How did…?"

She pulled a bottle from her stocks, perturbed. "Your eyes are red. Did you know?"

"No." I took the bottle she offered gratefully, breaking the seal at once and drinking it down, only remembering after the first swallow that I had no gold and no way to pay. Damn, I thought. I hated Cheydinhal. I really didn't want to go to jail in Cheydinhal.

But the potion was strong and there was a subtle undercurrent of blackberry in it, winding around something earthy and calming. Ordinarily, calming would have been lovely, but all that was keeping me going at that point was _not _being calm, and at the same time I could appreciate the alchemical ingenuity the last of my endurance ran out and I collapsed on her floor, fighting darkness with gritted teeth and losing.

* * *

A/N:

The alchemist making a cameo is Dust, an OC of Thimbletwix's she was gracious enough to let me play with for a little bit.


	57. Chapter 57

The sound of voices pulled me awake, low and quiet. My mother's, I recognized, along with Blanchard's drawl and another voice, dark and cold that made me shudder. I opened my eyes, expecting to be back underground, but I was still in the alchemist's shop, draped sideways on a large chair.

The alchemist poked her head in, eyes brightening when she found me awake. "Hi." She disappeared a moment and came back with a cup of tea, handing it to me with an odd expression. "How do you feel?"

I was so thirsty I drank the whole thing down before I could answer. "Better," I managed, wrapping unsteady hands around the cup. "Thank you." I hesitated. "I'm sorry, but I don't have any money. I don't live in town and I wasn't thinking…"

She made a dismissive gesture, brushing hair out of her eyes. "It's been taken care of, don't worry."

That stopped me cold. "It has." I frowned, uncertain.

She nodded, hair falling forward into her face again. "You talked. In your sleep, when you were dreaming. I recognized some of the names, let them know you were here."

My stomach dropped. Any names I might have mumbled would have been the stuff of nightmares, not dreams. But she wasn't treating me like she expected me to be dragged off and killed. "Thank you," I managed, wondering if I could slip out the front door unnoticed.

"There's a man in town looking for you," she offered with a frown. "An Imperial with a big gray dog. You know him?"

Caius. _Bastion_. "Yes," I managed. "He's a friend. Was he in here?"

"Before you showed up, actually. They told me a little of what happened," she ventured, glancing at the door."

I was quiet a moment, trying to piece everything together. "Are you one of them?" I asked, my stomach twisting.

She seemed taken aback, blinking. "No… well. Yes, sort of. I make poisons for them."

Immediately, I regretted drinking that tea. "I'm not going back underground."

She looked confused a second. "Under… oh, the sanctuary. No, I don't think that's the plan."

I didn't like the sound of a Dark Brotherhood plan but before I could say so my mother peered in, looking worried. "I thought I heard you up," she said. "How do you feel?"

"I'm alive," I said, and managed not to say_: no thanks to you. _She walked in and tried to smooth a lock of hair behind my ear, but I flinched away from her hand. "You knew the assassins were coming to Applewatch, didn't you?"

She blinked, uncertain. "Assassins?"

I shook with anger and fatigue. "Four of them. Looking for _him_. Did it ever occur to you that they'd still come and look even if he wasn't there? What might happen if they found me instead?"

Apparently _four_ assassins hadn't been anticipated; she looked genuinely horrified. It didn't change anything.

"I'm leaving," I announced, getting to my feet. I pushed past my mother blindly, headed for the door and not stopping at the sight of Blanchard and Lachance by the counter.

"Alora." My mother slipped by me to stand in front of the door, blocking my exit, more worried than I'd ever seen her. I didn't care. "In case you haven't noticed, you're in no condition to travel. You can't just leave like this."

I grimaced, strained to snapping. "In case you haven't noticed, I'm in this condition because of you." She didn't budge. "If you don't want me walking out that door then you go find Caius and you bring him here," I told her, losing the last shreds of my patience. "Otherwise, you will _get out of my way_." She made no move to go and a spell roared its way into my palm, augmented by fury and frustration and crackling blue in my hand. "Move!" I demanded, shaking with tension and the grim sensation of being trapped.

"You're not going to want to do that, love," I heard Blanchard say, readying his own spell. "You're hardly the only killer in the room."

"I'll go," my mother said quickly, glancing over my shoulder. "Just…"

"Get Caius," I snapped, the spell flickering in my hand.

"And you'll stay here until I get back," she said.

I nodded mutely.

With a last, worried look over my shoulder she turned and slipped out the door, leaving me alone with two assassins and the alchemist.

As soon as my mother was gone Blanchard laughed. "How long can you keep that spell up?"

I shifted, putting the door at my back so I could keep an eye on everyone else. "How long can you?"

"Look, as pretty as the light show is," the alchemist began, looking irritated and wary, "I'd really rather not risk you sneezing and blowing my house apart."

I ignored her.

She sighed, hands on her hips. "What if I told you that no one would hurt you while you're under my roof?"

I scowled, disbelieving. Two minutes, I thought, and then I was leaving, whether my mother came back with Caius or not. The alchemist watched the assassins and the assassins watched me, and I watched the three of them, counting time in my head.

Two minutes came and went and my mother didn't return.

My hand went for the doorknob and the alchemist frowned. "You said you'd stay here."

"She said she'd come back." No one stopped me when I opened the door and slipped out, disappearing with a spell.

My mother hadn't got far. She and Caius were arguing in the middle of the road, with Bastion sitting nearby looking forlorn. I picked my way over the cold stones, more tired than I'd ever been. When I was some little distance away Bastion caught the scent of me, and his nose tilted in the air, seeking the source as he cautiously got to all fours and his tail began to wag. Caius glanced over at him, scowling, and did a double-take, looking around for where he knew I must be.

I dropped the spell keeping me invisible and watched his expression change. He'd been angry before, and tired. Now it was worse, somehow, disbelieving, and for long seconds he didn't say anything.

At the sight of me, Bastion pressed close, warm and familiar, tail swishing rapidly from side to side as he licked my dirty hands. "His leg was broken, along with a few ribs. And he was bleeding from his nose," Caius said in a grim, quiet voice, watching Bastion. "Sentry said you were tossed over the back of a horse like a sack of wheat. The dog was already a quarter-mile out trying to follow you when I found him."

I stroked Bastion's ears, relief and exhaustion making me feel raw. "Can we get out of here?"

He let out a breath, looking grim. "Yes. Yes we can."

My mother twisted her hands in front of her, looking pained. "Alora…"

"Don't." I could barely scrape the words together, but managed, "If you love me at all you'll leave me alone. Me and my children. For good." I felt as cold as the cobblestones and about as tenderhearted, and though I had no idea where I was going, I turned and walked away from her.

Down the road with Caius and Bastion at my side and nearly out of sight, I looked back. She was still standing alone in the road, watching me go.

-oOo-

I thought we'd head to the city gates, get out of Cheydinhal as fast as we could, but Caius steered me to an inn instead, up a flight of stairs and into a chair.

"We're not leaving?" I asked dully as the door closed behind him, automatically reaching out for Bastion.

His laugh was thin and humorless. "You want to die on the road?" I frowned, and he asked, "Have you seen yourself?"

I shook my head silently.

"You should. Get a good look before you heal up. See what they've done to you." He locked the door, dissatisfied. "As much as I don't like it, I think we'll be better off trying to get a night's rest before we make the trip back. Get prepared, get healed." He blew out a quiet breath. "How's the babe?"

I swallowed hard, afraid. "I don't know. She stopped moving a couple days ago. I don't know what that means." It couldn't be a good sign.

He sighed, slumping into a chair and covering his eyes tiredly with a hand.

"There don't happen to be any secret agent Blades hiding out in Cheydinhal, are there?" I asked, trying to change the subject.

He looked up. "Not that I know of. Why?"

I shrugged. "Thought if we have to stay the night in this gods-cursed city, the more allies we've got keeping watch, the better."

He nodded, slowly. "That's not a bad idea. But no, there aren't any Blades around I know of. You think the guards are in the Brotherhood's pocket?"

"I don't know." I picked up an apple from the bowl on the table and almost bit into it before I remembered Brennan telling me not to eat any I hadn't picked myself. I let it drop. "Best not to risk it, probably."

We were silent then, both of us trying to think. I hated Cheydinhal. It was almost a shame. It would have been a pretty town if I didn't know what was underneath it. I didn't want to spend a night here.

"Knights," I said finally, an idea pressing at my brain, a memory from months before, of drunken fools. _Well-armed_ drunken fools. "We need knights," I said numbly, scrambling for paper and a quill. "To play bodyguard until we can leave the city."

Caius looked skeptical. "And you just happen to have a bunch of knights sitting around in Cheydinhal?"

I couldn't help the raw laugh that burst from my lips. "More or less, actually." I sketched out a quick letter, hoping this would work. "The Knights of the Thorn," I explained as I wrote. "Not much use in an Oblivion gate, and better at drinking than anything else. But let's see what happens if I ask them to protect a queen from the forces of darkness and promise to pay them in beer."

-oOo-

A bit fond of wine or not, the Knights of the Thorn were nothing if not enthusiastic. Within half an hour there were a trio of armed young men outside the door of the room, grinning ear-to-ear at the idea that they'd been asked for specifically. It was Farwil's idea, after he introduced himself as the Count's son, to move us into the castle for the night on account of it being much more defensible and much better guarded than the inn.

Caius agreed immediately.

My own reluctance at the idea had little to do with arguing over its defensibility and more to do with explaining myself to the Count. Even as we made our way to the castle I felt unaccountably hesitant. If things went badly, I'd be dragging the Dark Brotherhood to the Count's doorstep, and endangering all his men—and his son—in the process.

One of the Knights ran ahead, and we were informed that the Count was waiting when we walked into the castle. Castle Cheydinhal was lush and green, plants and flowers everywhere making the place feel like a haven, but the Count himself seemed troubled, rising at our entrance and giving a quick glance to the guards, who shut the doors behind us. "Your Majesty," he said, walking towards me, and I froze in surprise before I realized he was addressing me.

Something to get used to, and quickly. "Count Indarys." He took my hands in greeting, and I murmured too low for anyone else to hear, "I realize I've come under poor circumstances and I don't intend to bring trouble to your home or city. I'll understand if you'd rather I go."

Thank the gods for merish hearing. No one but Farwil overheard me, and he only looked concerned.

But the Count looked determined, if worried. "Of course not," he said. "You are welcome here, naturally. Castle Cheydinhal offers you whatever aid and protection you ask."

Dunmer voices, Dunmer accents… I had missed them so badly. I felt a rush of gratitude, illogically strong, toward the Count: for taking me in, for sounding like home, for being one thing in the city of Cheydinhal that wasn't horrible. "Thank you," I managed, attempting to appear as collected as possible. "I sincerely appreciate it."

"She could use a healer, if you've got one available," Caius said, stepping to my side with a frown. "Her captors aren't known for their mercy."

Something flickered across the Count's expression. "Of course."

He nodded to a woman who stepped close and asked us to follow, and as we walked up the stairs the Count watched us go, still looking troubled.

-oOo-

Upstairs I was ushered into a suite of rooms with a bath and invited to wash. I smelled like a week-dead guar and I didn't feel like putting up a fight, and just nodded when I was supposed to and washed. Later, when I'd scrubbed off the dirt and blood and sweat and wrapped myself in a robe, I sat in front of a mirror to brush out my hair and saw what Caius had mentioned earlier.

Most obvious, and most troubling, was the thick ring of bruises around my neck, colors shading from green to nearly black all the way up to my chin. The side of it looked more like rotting fruit than human skin, swollen and tender to the touch and still oozing, with darker spots in a few places that I finally recognized as the places the vampire had fed. Above the neck was better. My eyes were no longer red but had dark circles ringing them, and my lips were so cracked they still stung.

All this because of a simple misunderstanding, I thought. What would have happened if they had actually been after me?

"Found you some clothes," Caius announced as he pushed open the door without knocking, holding up a bundle. Something in my expression must have given away my feelings, because he stopped mid-stride. "So."

I didn't want to look back at the mirror and looked at Bastion instead. "So."

"Your valiant defenders are standing guard," he said after a moment.

I nodded tiredly, pushing up and taking the dress he'd brought. "What are they expecting?" I stepped behind a nearby screen and pulled off the robe.

"A queen. Though if you're so inclined, you might play up the damsel in distress bit. Let them think you're more helpless than you actually are; let them feel protective. I get the feeling they don't get to do much around here. But let them believe you think they're important and you'll have them eating out of your hand."

I tried and failed to lace up the back of the dress and peeked around the screen. "Any chance you'd help me with this?"

He raised an eyebrow in amusement. "Forget how to dress yourself?" He got up anyway, standing behind me and working the laces, pulling the back of the dress together, and then he stopped, undid it, and started over.

I glanced over my shoulder. "Problems?"

He was scowling at the dress. "They make these things more complicated than they need to be. I'm not used to putting clothes _on_ a woman." He must have got it sorted out; it started coming together properly up my back and he asked after a moment, "Anything from your girl, yet?"

My heart sank at the reminder. "No. And it's not like I can ask the healer about it." Healer's oaths only held so far, and if someone found out that I was only carrying one child now and months from now I showed up in Mournhold with twins… It was a risk we couldn't afford.

"You said something earlier," he said, sounding pensive. "When you were talking to your mother. You told her you had children. Plural."

I thought back, and nodded.

He hesitated, and though I couldn't see his expression I knew he was frowning. "You're committed to this."

It didn't sound like a question, but I answered anyway. "Yes."

He was quiet a few seconds. "Even if it comes to it, and you lose your own child?"

I'd managed to avoid thinking about it too directly; it was too painful. Hearing him say it aloud only made it worse. "Yes," I managed finally. "Even then."

He tied something off and put a hand on my shoulder. "Good."


	58. Chapter 58

I woke up to a tickling in my belly I hadn't felt in days, and I was so relieved I could hardly breathe. In the first thin light of morning I curled into a ball in the big bed, quiet and concentrating on the wriggling feeling that meant my child was alive until the healer walked in with Caius behind her. She set down her tray at my bedside and asked, "How are you feeling?"

"Much better," I answered, swallowing without pain. After her efforts the night before, I felt almost normal again. Almost. "Thank you."

"You should know," she told me, amused, "you've brought about a small miracle. _All_ of the Knights of the Thorn managed to stay sober an entire night."

She handed me a potion and I sniffed it before I drank it down, coughing at the astringent burn down my throat. "Really?"

"Oh, yes." A wry smile quirked on her lips. "I don't think it's ever happened before. Certainly the Count's surprised." I was quiet as she examined me, taking my pulse and examining my throat until one of the Knights came in.

"A message came for you, ma'am," he said, pushing into the room with a letter and handing it to me.

My mother's handwriting on the front, my first name only. The letter was sealed in black. I swallowed hard.

As soon as they were gone and the healer closed the door behind them I tossed the letter to Caius, who glanced at me in unspoken question. "Tell me if there's anything I need to know, would you?" He frowned, but broke the seal anyway and began to read. It was thick, I noticed, four pages long and dotted with tearstains, but reading it was the last thing in the world I wanted.

If you love me at all you'll leave me alone, I'd said, and she hadn't. The only conclusions I could draw from that, I didn't like. Caius read my mother's letter slowly, twice, the quiet crackling of the fire the only sound in the room. His expression was pensive as he folded the pages and stuffed them back in the envelope. "Your mother says that whatever protection she can offer is yours, whether you want it or not."

I nodded. "Anything else I ought to know?"

"Not really."

_Then let's be done with it_. "Good." I picked up the envelope and got to my feet, scarcely glancing at it before I crossed the room and tossed it into the fire. "When can we leave?"

-oOo-

It took a while, as it turned out. Caius had procured supplies earlier that morning, but taking our leave of the castle still took nearly half an hour. First, a last meeting with the healer, who provided potions for the journey. Then a brief audience with the Count, who hadn't lost the careworn expression of yesterday but told me I was welcome to return if I was ever in Cheydinhal again.

I thanked him. But I never intended to come back.

Finally, the Knights escorted us from the castle, tired from their overnight vigil but optimistic and cheered by the fact that their mere presence had been enough to deter anyone from attacking. I praised them as much as I could when they escorted me to the stables, thanking them profusely for their service, and they seemed even more pleased at that. I'd thought we might take a carriage, but Caius led me over a black mare instead. "Safer to ride," he explained at my questioning look. "Less likely we'll get trapped, and easier to carry out Plan B if we have to."

I laughed shortly, taking the reins. "Kill everything that moves and run like hell?"

He blinked at the reversal before an eyebrow quirked up. "Whatever makes you happy. I wouldn't want to be the first poor idiot who gets in your way." The mare was bigger than Verity had been and watched me with interest. Caius tossed me a piece of apple. "She's yours. Make friends; give her a present."

I glanced at him curiously as I offered the apple-piece to the mare and she lipped it off my palm in a wet-velvet crunch. "You bought me a horse?"

"You bought you a horse," he corrected. "I used your gold to do it."

I felt uncomfortably like I was being watched as I followed Caius out the stable, and once I was astride I cast a detection spell as discreetly as I could. My heart sank as a pair of figures bloomed purple not far away, cloaked with spells and standing motionless. My mother, probably, and someone else. Whoever was holding her leash, now. A flutter came below my navel and I turned my attention back to the road, urging the black mare forward with Bastion trotting at her heels.

No one followed us, and we didn't look back.

-oOo-

The journey was easy enough. The mare's canter was quick and smooth as silk on a mirror, and Bastion kept pace with her easily, tongue lolling and tail waving high at the chance to run. Even at the pace we set, it took us all day to get to Bruma. Night had fallen hours before by the time we got to Applewatch and all of us were tired, especially Bastion, who was footsore but wagging his tail anyway.

Caius grimaced as he dismounted. "You know Jauffre's going to need an explanation for what happened to you."

I got off the mare with considerably less grace than I'd have liked. "So tell him," I said, tired but glad to be home. "Tell him everything. I'll tell him myself if he wants."

Even by starlight I could see he was skeptical. "Everything?"

"Everything," I affirmed, opening my door. "I'll draw him a map of the Dark Brotherhood sanctuary. I'll recite back every godsdamned word of what happened if that's what he wants."

He laughed tiredly as I cast a light spell. "I think you might be channeling Calla a bit."

"Maybe." The vampire had left my house a mess. There was dried blood on the floor and a couple of chairs overturned and ashes… well, I guess the ashes were my fault, technically, since I'd been the one to throw them.

Caius frowned at the blood. "You know this is it, don't you? So much as an angry courier gives you a papercut and you're not staying at Applewatch anymore."

I could have burned the vampire to ashes one inch at a time, just for that. "I know," I answered, and went for the broom.

-oOo-

The next morning dawned rainy and dim, but not even the weather could dampen Calla's spirits. She came bounding in with her usual ebullience, tracking mud across the floor and curling up in a chair. Her cheerfulness faltered a bit when she looked at me, setting her sack down on the table and making the chess pieces wobble. "Ye gods, priestess, you look like _hell_."

"Thanks," I said. "What's in the sack?"

"Brought you a present," she said, reaching into the sack and rummaging around with a little frown of concentration. "You like daedric magic, right?" Alarm bells started clamoring in my head, but Calla was oblivious. She finally found what she was looking for and pulled it from the sack: a sigil stone, black and red and bottomless, burning like an ember in her hand as she held it out to me.

I was halfway across the room before I realized it, wide-eyed and wary. But there was no tug on me, no insistent pull in my head. For a moment Calla looked like she didn't know whether to laugh or shout, but then she had some spark of revelation and her eyes were curious. "You know these are all dormant, right?"

I stepped closer, cautiously, settling into the chair. "Dormant?"

She wrinkled her nose at the stone. "Martin used to go all weird around these, too. Brought a sack of them for him to look at and he went half-crazy. Was the first time he ever yelled at me."

Baurus cleared his throat.

"Second time he ever yelled at me," Calla corrected seamlessly.

Baurus cleared his throat again, louder.

"Four hundred and seventeenth time he ever yelled at me," she amended at once, breaking into a grin. "Dammit, Baurus, _better?_"

He snorted. "Closer."

"Anyway," she went on, "I've got tons of them. I already kept back enough to juggle with and don't need these, but they're dead useful for enchanting stuff with. Thought you might be able to use them."

"You're juggling _sigil stones?_"

She only grinned. "There are some decent enchantments in here, too. Shield charms, some fatigue charms, some night-eye. Some of them I'm not sure what they do. Thought you might figure it out. Here," she said, taking one of my hands and pressing a sigil stone into it, not letting go and clamping her fingers over mine on the stone. "Gods sake, they don't _bite_."

It was warm in my palm, flaring inside with a glow of red and buzzing faintly with energy, but there was no sense of it reaching into my head, no sense of hostility at all.

I wondered why. But before I could think about it too deeply Baurus held out a thin envelope. "This came to Bruma for you."

Calla took back the stone as I took the envelope, frowning as I looked at it. It was unremarkable and very thin, with only my name on the front and nothing else. I broke the plain seal and opened it. Inside was only one thick piece of paper, stiff and white. It wasn't a letter; there weren't any words. Instead, as big as my hand and drawn in red ink was a familiar symbol: an hourglass, split by three vertical lines.

Caius swore when he saw it, dropping his own letter and plucking away the envelope and drawing to examine them closely, looking for any sign of who'd sent it, where it might have come from, but there was nothing. He let out a tense breath, scowling. "Hell of a message." He glanced at me before frowning at the page again. "So they know who you are and where you are. But they're sending a drawing instead of an assassin."

For the moment, anyway. "What do you think it means? Do you think it's a warning?"

He was quiet a moment, thinking. "I don't know," he admitted finally. "You were the most visible of the people trying to wreck their plans, at least as far as Almalexia was concerned. If this is about Cassian…" He trailed off, brow furrowing in thought. "If it's a warning, it's vague as all hell." He took his letter to the fireplace and burned it, holding it carefully as it disintegrated into ashes. "I've got to take off for a while. Orders." He leaned over the table a moment, pulling over quill and paper and writing quickly. "Give this to Jauffre, would you?" he said, handing it to Baurus once it was dry and folded.

Baurus tucked the note away with a nod and Caius stopped to drain the last of his tea. "Behave yourself. Be careful," he cautioned on his way out the door.

Calla was trying to spin a sigil stone on the tip of a finger and frowned as Caius left. "Wonder what that's about."

If Baurus knew, he wasn't saying, but after Caius left the little farmhouse felt oddly somber, our chess game abandoned on the table half-played.

-oOo-

Weeks came and went as spring came to Bruma in earnest and the mountainside seemed to bloom overnight, plants pushing up through the snow and life returning to what passed for normal at Applewatch. I tended my garden, puttering in the dirt under Bastion's watchful eye. I studied as devotedly as though I would be tested at any moment. I did eventually get the hang of knitting, though perhaps the less said about those first few attempts, the better. Calla teased me about them when she came, even more heavily guarded, now, a quartet of Blades at her heels every time she came to see me.

There was no sign of my mother, or of any of her associates, or of Caius.

In the absence of any excitement the days seemed to slow down. Rain's Hand was unsurprisingly rainy as it wound to a close, and life went on in a series of gray, drizzly days, each barely distinguishable from the one before.

Until Brennan and Marie returned, that is, soaked to the skin and seeming to drift my direction very slowly. From my garden I could see them coming, one hand on Bastion's head as I watched them stop for a moment not far away, leaning against a rock with heads bowed in the fog. I frowned. Even from here they looked tired. Knowing Brennan, he wasn't taking care of himself properly, if at all.

"Come on," I murmured to Bastion, pulling a few early onions from the sodden ground before getting clumsily to my feet. "Let's go feed the saints, shall we?"

There was much more wrong with Brennan than being a little worn out. One he was inside he collapsed into a chair as though the weight of the world was pressing him down, his hand shaking as he patted the top of Bastion's head. "Hey, boy."

Marie shrugged off her robe and hung it by the door, slicking sparrow-brown hair off her forehead and watching Brennan worriedly.

I watched my brother out of the corner of my eye as I put on some tea. His robe hung off him loosely, even though I could hear the quiet clinking of chainmail underneath it. There was an unhealthy pallor under his freckles, a hollow, defeated look to his eyes. He gave Bastion a final pat and settled back in the chair wearily, looking over at me and mustering a weak smile. "You look well. Motherhood suits you."

I collected bowls, plates, a loaf of bread. "Thanks." He took the cup I handed him and cradled it in a hand without meeting my eyes. "You're not well, though, are you?" I asked, taking in Marie's heartsick look and the slump of Brennan's shoulders with concern.

He took a drink. "No." The cup shook as he set it aside. "I'm about as far from well as I've ever been, I think," he muttered grimly.

Marie and I shared a glance as she sank into a chair, radiating concern.

"What's going on?" I asked.

He sat in silence, a world of hurt in his expression for a bare moment before he forced it away and looked at me. "What do you know about curses?"

Between the pair of them, they told me the story: of the vision Brennan had received at the end of the pilgrimage, the journey to the Imperial City, their exploration of Vanua. Of discovering the Priory, overgrown by brambles and abandoned to time, hiding secrets in the undercroft he hadn't expected.

Of the uncomfortable realization that he was expected to retrieve these relics, to reorganize the Knights of the Nine, to defeat some ancient, daedra-immortalized evil. "I thought I was trying to find a murderer," he told me, looking ashen. "Some priest-murdering lunatic we could capture and bring to justice and be done with. I thought the Prophet was a little mad. I didn't know it would… I didn't think it would lead to all _this_."

_This_ had included standing stock still and terrified while an enormous bear pummeled him like a training dummy near the shrine of Kynareth. He showed me the great rents in the side of his armor, the scars underneath still pink from where the claws had torn through and down to the bone. Surely, he'd thought, retrieving a relic from the chapel of Stendarr wouldn't be as bad.

It had been worse.

A curse, handed down through generations and resting on the shoulders of a young man. He'd done nothing, Brennan said bitterly, absolutely nothing to deserve it himself. It was killing him by inches, sapping his energy and stranding him in a miserable half-life where he felt like he was dying but didn't die, damned to suffer with no cure, no relief, as he had all his life, and as his father had, and his grandfather had. Death was the only cure.

Unless someone else took the curse upon himself.

I knew before Brennan told me that he'd done it, somehow, had lifted the curse from this Kellen person by assuming it himself, buckling under the weight of it even as he sat at my table. "I prayed for grace," he said quietly, not meeting my eyes. "For strength, at the altar when I took it on. I thought I might have some sort of favor as a priest, something that would protect me from the worst of it. I didn't expect it to be easy." He sighed grimly. "But I never thought it'd be so hard, either. Every step I take I feel like collapsing. I can hardly keep my eyes open, even in the middle of the day. If that farmer hadn't let us ride in the back of his wagon to Bruma I don't know what we'd have done."

I took his empty cup of tea to my counter and refilled it, though it was more potion than tea by the time I was done, blackberry paste and pear preserves at the bottom of the cup for sweetness, for energy. It didn't go unnoticed; he smiled wanly after a sip of it. "Thank you. That's better, actually." But it drained out of him almost as soon as he could drink it, as though his energy was being siphoned away by some invisible force.

"I don't know what to do," he admitted. "I can barely lift my axe, to say nothing of swinging it. To say nothing of actually _hitting_ anything. And I'm expected to fight like this?" He grimaced. "The first fight that finds me I'll be dead."

Marie was miserable. "Please don't say that."

His expression was bitter. "Why? It's the truth."

"It's not," I insisted quietly. "We'll find a solution. We'll fix this."

He glared at me without any real heat. "What are you going to do, take a day trip to Aetherius and give the gods a stern lecture? Order every bandit and wolf on the road to quit picking on me?"

"Wolves won't bother you with the Boots on," Marie reminded him.

"But someone's got to protect _you_," he retorted sharply.

Her jaw set. "I can protect myself. And you, too."

Brennan grimaced, his mouth twisting in sardonic unhappiness. "You want to protect me? You can take over, if you want. You can take the Boots and the Gauntlets and the ring and the fetching _curse_, too." It was so unlike him I couldn't help but stare, and Marie looked stricken. "I'm sorry," Brennan said immediately. "I'm sorry. I know you couldn't have. It was my own arrogance to think that I could."

I had the feeling this wasn't the first time they'd had this particular exchange. And while I'd never known Brennan to be one to lash out at the people close to him, the trouble obviously ran deep. Despair had settled into his posture, into the hooded way he looked at us. He seemed already half-resigned to death.

"I don't know exactly how to lift your curse," I began slowly, thinking. "Other than to take it on myself," I amended.

"Which you're _not_ doing," Brennan said, frowning.

I considered it a moment anyway. It would be bad, I knew it would be, but I wasn't the one having to travel and fight for my life on a regular basis.

Brennan looked alarmed. "You'd have to go to the chapel of Stendarr and pray at the altar for the ability, which as I recall you're specifically forbidden from doing."

I felt a traitorous twinge of relief at the reminder. "Even if we can't get rid of it," I said, thinking aloud, "it doesn't mean you have to suffer the curse just the way it is. There's got to be a way to… to make it easier to bear, somehow." Though apparently potions were out. He couldn't just drink them constantly; he'd be sick. But it would have to be something constant, and something strong.

Brennan's brow wrinkled. "A way that generations of Kellen's family somehow didn't find?"

I ignored the bitterness in his voice. "Yes." There had to be something.

And by luck or by some Divine design, there was: sigil stones, sitting in the sack Calla had brought, tumbling over one another as I dug through them searching for one that felt right. It was tricky. All of them seemed to want to slide into my fingers at once, buzzing for attention and turning into a blur of magicka instead of anything distinct. But Calla had said something about fatigue and I finally found it: a stone that gave me a burst of energy when my fingertips brushed against it, that made me feel more well-rested and wide awake the longer I held it.

It was the only thing close to a solution I could think of.

Brennan's eyes went wide when I pushed it into his palm, and he stared at the stone with a mixture of relief and revulsion. "It's a sigil stone," I explained when he didn't say anything. "They keep Oblivion gates open. Is that better?"

He nodded mutely, never taking his eyes off it.

"They're supposed to make good enchantments. Is it…" I hesitated. "How much better do you feel?"

"Almost normal," he said hoarsely, barely breathing. "And this is from Azura's plane of Oblivion?"

"Mehrunes Dagon's," I admitted, resisting the urge to babble an explanation at their dual expressions of horror. "But it doesn't matter," I insisted. "If it works, it works. And it is working, isn't it?"

Brennan looked like he wanted nothing more than to drop the stone in disgust but couldn't bring himself to do it. "Yes. It's working."

There was silence in the farmhouse for a moment as we thought. "I don't know how to enchant something with it," I said finally. "Just that it's possible. I'll take it to the Mages Guild and see if they know what to do." And hope like hell they did. Calla had said they were good for enchanting things, but I didn't know how to do it and couldn't go to the Temple to ask her, and I couldn't afford to get it wrong.

Brennan slumped in the chair as he handed it back to me. "When are you going?"

I shrugged. "Now's as good a time as any. And the sooner the better, I think." At his nod, I continued. "Why don't you stay here and rest?"

He nodded again, glancing at Marie. "You should go with her."

Marie stood, looking hesitant and picking absently at the hem of her sleeve. "You'll be all right?"

Brennan's smile was bitter. "I'll be waiting for Dagon's daedric enchantment to help me avoid getting killed by a curse from the god of mercy," he grimaced. "Does any part of that sound all right to you?"

"Brennan," I murmured in rebuke, frowning at Marie's expression of misery. "It's not her fault."

He pressed his hands to his eyes in weariness. "I know." His voice was muffled. "I do. Everything just feels wrong. I thought… if I was patient and if I just had enough faith, that this would work. But it hasn't, and I don't know what to do."

Of all the people in the world to have a crisis of faith I'd never have thought it would be Brennan. "Rest," I said finally, pulling my cloak from the hook by the door and a heavy purse of gold from a drawer. "Sleep, if you can. We'll be back soon."

He barely heard me, I think. He nodded vaguely and pushed out of the chair, heading for the bed as Bastion and Marie followed me out of the farmhouse.


	59. Chapter 59

Mist shrouded us as we walked the little way into Bruma. Marie didn't speak, sick with worry and glancing over her shoulder at the farmhouse disappearing behind us. It was only after we'd left the sigil stone and a silver amulet with the Mages Guild that she began to relax, and when the enchanter told us to return in an hour we headed back outside only to find that the fog had turned into a cold, dismal rain.

Tucked into chairs by a roaring fire at the inn, Marie cupped her hands around a mug of ale and sighed. "It never fails to surprise me how different the weather in Bruma is. It's practically summer in Anvil and here it looks like it might snow."

"Did you come from Anvil, last?"

"No. Straight from Chorrol. Brennan insisted on seeing you as soon as possible. He's…" Marie hesitated, looking pained. "I hate to say it, but he's not doing well. You've seen it, I'm sure. It's not just a physical problem. The curse might be affecting his body but I'm almost equally afraid for his heart," she admitted. "He keeps saying this whole thing is going to kill him."

I frowned, instantly uneasy. "That doesn't sound like Brennan at all."

"I know." Unhappiness flickered across her face. "And it makes it worse that everyone's looking to him for answers, and everyone expects him not only to know what to do next, but also to do it all himself, and it's… it's half the reason we came to Bruma, I think." She laughed a little, though the humor was bleak. "He said you were the only person in the world he could count on to tell him what to do instead of the reverse."

I smiled a little, but the thought was still worrying. "Who is it that's expecting him to do all this?"

"The other knights, mostly, I think. They keep showing up and putting themselves in his hands. They call him Knight Commander these days." Marie toyed with the handle of her cup. "He hates it." She was quiet a moment, thinking. "I think if it was up to him he'd do the entire thing alone, as some… some extended personal pilgrimage in utter obscurity. The attention he's getting bothers him. He'd rather just be a priest, I think, and he's expected to be this… this heroic crusader, this all-knowing…" She gestured helplessly, grasping for the right word. "Everyone's looking to him for answers. It's rather daunting, I'm afraid."

"I'd imagine," I murmured. Not that dealing with a reluctant young man daunted by a looming destiny was anything new, exactly. I tapped a finger on the table, thinking. "Is there anything that would make it easier?" At her look, I continued, "Even if he's the only one who can go out and do these things, it doesn't mean that aid won't help. His armor's a wreck," I frowned. "He looks like he's hardly eaten in a month and his boots are about worn out."

Marie hesitated, not meeting my eyes. "This particular line of work isn't exactly…" She trailed off.

"Lucrative?" I finished, knowing I was right when she flushed a bit.

"Not really," she admitted. "Chapels aren't really the richest places in the world, and no matter how much they'd like to help, resources are still pretty limited. Especially since everyone's trying to pitch in and help rebuild the Chapel of Dibella at the same time they're trying to fortify themselves against attack. Every priest at the Chapel of Stendarr was armed," she said grimly. "Every chapel we've been to so far is afraid they'll be next."

With good reason, probably. I mulled it over. "I can't help the chapels," I said, watching her. "But I'll do whatever I can for Brennan. And you, by extension."

Marie grimaced. "He'd never ask."

"No," I agreed. "He wouldn't. But I imagine you're capable of making him see reason."

She smiled a little, at that.

I settled back in my chair. "And if he came to Bruma because I'd tell him what to do, it would be a shame for him to leave disappointed, wouldn't it?"

-oOo-

Back at Applewatch, Brennan did put up a protest. The armor he took readily enough, mostly because I think he truly wanted not to die. He couldn't help but admire the axe. But he balked at the sight of the horses we'd led to the pen, settling them in with my mare.

"It's too much," he frowned, already looking much improved with the silver amulet tucked under his shirt.

"It isn't," Marie protested mildly. "The cost to benefit ratio is tipped heavily in your sister's favor." At his look of skepticism she continued, "You'll be much faster in arriving at your objectives. In all likelihood, you'll be able to complete your goals in less time and since you'll be less fatigued from walking long distances you'll be more rested for any fighting that you have to do, and so less likely to get seriously injured. And with you on horseback it's feasible you'd be able to see her more often and provide the comfort of family during her isolation and separation from her husband and country." She smiled at him, every inch one of Julianos'. "Surely you don't find your sister's happiness objectionable."

I coughed to hide a laugh, but Brennan wasn't fooled. "That's fighting dirty," he grumbled.

"Come on," I said, when he looked set to argue. "If our situations were reversed and it was me, you'd do the same."

He frowned at the both of us a moment, frustration giving way to grudging amusement as one of the horses nosed at him curiously. "You're ganging up on me," he complained at last.

"Just a little," I admitted. "And it's for your own good." At his longsuffering sigh, I pressed, "I've got some experience with how this whole hero thing works, remember. Trust me on this."

He still looked doubtful, but he didn't protest again, and he only grumbled a little when Marie spent the rest of the day teaching him to ride a horse.

-oOo-

Brennan watched the sunrise with me the next morning, sitting at my side on my doorstep as morning light crept up over the world.

The difference in him after just a night's rest and a day with the amulet on was remarkable. He'd lost his ghastly pallor already and his hands no longer shook, and his eyes were clear as he gazed out at the mountains. The sense of gloom, though, the shadowed feeling of grim defeat still clung to him, and I didn't know why.

I nudged him lightly with a shoulder, smiling as the baby gave a flurry of kicks along my side. "So."

He glanced at me and attempted a smile. "So."

Light was sliding along the mountains, brightening in the east. "Where are you heading next?"

Brennan sighed. "Leyawiin."

He sounded distinctly less than thrilled at the prospect. "Leyawiin's a long way. What's there that you need?"

"The Mace," he said tiredly. "And the Shield's supposed to be not too far away."

I bit my lip, thinking. "And after that, what's still missing?"

He leaned back against the door, looking unhappy. "The Greaves. The Sword."

Silence stretched out between us and I put an arm around Brennan's shoulder. "You're too skinny. You need to eat better."

He gave a quiet laugh. "You sound like Mother." He poked at the soggy soil, eyes downcast. "Would you mind looking into the curse? The amulet makes it better but it's…"

"Of course I will," I assured him when he trailed off. Not that this was really my area of expertise, but I'd certainly try.

He sighed, his shoulder tense under my hand as he propped his elbows on his knees and mumbled, "I'm in love with Marie."

Because no one could have seen _that _coming. I couldn't help but smile. "You say that like it's a bad thing. What's wrong?"

Brennan only grimaced. "Pick a reason. I don't know what I'm doing most of the time. I don't have any experience at this. I'm afraid she's going to get killed if she stays with me." A muscle worked in his jaw. "It's a generational curse, and unlike some I'm not cruel enough to pass it on. Or to even take a chance."

_Pass it on?_ I thought, and then realized. Of course Brennan wouldn't risk inflicting it on anyone else. But it came at the cost of any intimacy he would have had, any children he might have had. With Marie, apparently.

I squeezed his shoulder. "We'll find a way to break it," I told him.

"I hope you're right." He looked out at the mountains, his expression bleak. "I really do."

-oOo-

Later that morning Brennan and Marie left, mounted and well-equipped and heading down the road to Leyawiin. An hour later, Calla was at my doorstep and spent the afternoon poking her nose into the soup I was making, complaining that there wasn't enough meat in it. She'd begun craving it with a passion, apparently. Baurus joked that she'd already eaten all the beef at Cloud Ruler Temple and had only come down to my house for more.

Later she fell asleep at the table, snoring softly with her head pillowed on her arms and only waking up when evening started falling and Baurus shook her awake for the trip back up the mountain. Applewatch always seemed so empty after she left. I puttered around for an hour, dissatisfied at the quiet, scrubbing at counters that were perfectly clean to begin with before I finally gave up and went to bed, willing away a surge of loneliness.

I was so ready for it to be over.

I dove into research, searching in vain for anything on curse-breaking, anything on generational curses or Aedric artifacts or burdens handed down from a Divine. There was nothing, absolutely nothing, and the books I'd picked up in Bruma were of no use at all. Disappointed but not particularly surprised, I wrote a letter to the Arcane University, hoping they'd have better material.

The next day I woke up early, lying in bed staring at the dark ceiling and wondering why I felt like I was going a little mad. I'd lived alone before. By any objective measurement this situation was vastly better. I had Bastion, I had Calla coming by every few days. My brother had just left, and I could walk into Bruma whenever I wanted. I even had a roof over my head, this time.

But my house felt too empty, too quiet.

I was sitting rather morosely on own doorstep when I noticed a man striding up the road, a pack slung over one shoulder as he headed my way, whistling. I recognized that whistle and my heart gave a funny sideways leap. Darius.

Bastion barked as I pushed to my feet, suddenly giddy with joy. "No jumping on him this time," I warned, flushing in excitement as he fell in step beside me. "He's good."

Darius was close enough to hear me and grinned, crooked and wide as ever. "Does the dog ever talk back?"

"No." I hugged him tightly as soon as he was close enough, only a little awkward with how changed my body had become, only vaguely aware of his pack sliding to the ground.

I could feel him laugh, my ear against his chest. "He's better company than Caius, then. I wanted to… oh." Darius pulled away, his hands on my shoulders as he looked at me. "Wow."

I'd forgotten. It had been… what, two months? I couldn't pinpoint the emotion on his face and it made me uncomfortably self-conscious. "Calla tells me I look like an orange on a stick," I offered.

His eyebrows came together in confusion. "What? No." He laughed again, the wind ruffling his hair as he considered me. "A lemon, maybe."

I sighed, flushing. "Very funny."

He picked up his pack with a roguish smile. "Maybe a pear."

"Say a _word_ about watermelons," I warned him.

He slipped an arm around my shoulder with a chuckle. "I wouldn't dare. But speaking of food, have you eaten?"

"Not yet."

"One of the healers at Mournhold, this enormous Nord woman older than dirt, she had me bring you oranges. Said for you to eat at least one every day."

"You didn't walk all the way here, did you?"

"Just from Bruma." Bastion was sniffing him carefully and Darius just stood still and watched, bemused. "I got lucky this time. There was a mage right there at the University who sent me straight to Bruma as soon as I got in. An hour ago I was in Mournhold. Are you doing all right out here?"

I dug in my cupboard for something to cook. "For the most part. You?"

"I'm ready for this to be over. Is it Hearthfire yet?"

"Not yet." I pulled out tea. "I wish it was."

Darius sighed. "So do I. Here." He took the tea from my hand and set it aside to kiss me softly, sliding hands up my shoulders. He smelled like home. I didn't want to let go. "Not much longer," he said quietly, not making any move to let go either. "Three months?"

"More or less."

He smiled faintly. "We're halfway there, then. What's this?" He brushed a thumb along the side of my neck, across the little spots where the vampire bites had scarred.

I hesitated. "Long story. I'll tell you later," I promised, not looking forward to it. "Breakfast first. Sit and I'll feed you."

Darius laughed a little. "Sounds good." He yawned behind his hand, settling into a chair. "I actually prepared for being gone, if you can believe it. I don't have to rush back quite so fast, this time."

I moved a bowl of pears to the table. "How long can you stay?"

"A week," Darius answered with a self-satisfied grin.

That stopped me. "Really?"

"Yeah." He reached for the bread and pulled it over. "Took some doing, but I got it. Before I forget." He rummaged in his pack a moment and held out an orange. "Here. The healer used to live in Bruma, says there's things you're not going to get from the food up here."

I hesitated, eyeing the orange without enthusiasm. "I haven't really acquired a taste for oranges, yet."

His forehead wrinkled. "I didn't know oranges were an acquired taste."

I took it gingerly, trying not to grimace. "I've only had one, but I didn't like it."

"You must have got a bad one, then. I figured they'd be something you'd enjoy. Try that one, though, it came from Mournhold. It might taste better."

I didn't have much hope for it; this orange looked just like the last one I'd tried, and that one had been bitter and spongy. But if it was healer's orders… I steeled myself and took a bite. It was just like the last one. It was all I could do to keep chewing instead of washing my mouth out in disgust.

Darius' mouth hung open for a minute before he burst into laughter, loud and genuine.

I managed to swallow and coughed at the thick bumpiness going down my throat. "What?"

But Darius was useless, laughing so much he couldn't speak.

"What?"

He held out a hand for the orange. "Here. Give it here." As I watched, he pulled strips of the bumpy part away, grinning all the while. "You do know you're supposed to _peel_ these first."

"No," I admitted, suddenly embarrassed.

His eyes snapped with merriment. "Outlander."

_No kidding. _I felt my face get hot. "Calla told me the outside was the best part," I managed, which only made him laugh even more.


	60. Chapter 60

Calla was as happy to see Darius as if he was her long-lost brother, and she surprised him with a rib-cracking hug when she saw him. "I hoped I'd see you again. But you'd better not expect me to curtsy or anything just because you're a king. It won't happen."

Behind her, Jauffre sighed. "Decorum, Calla."

She ignored him in favor of looking into my pot. "Oh, you cooked!"

"I'm always cooking," I complained mildly. "And you're always eating all my food."

"You always cook too much food for one person," she retorted, peering at the soup I'd thrown together. "You'll never eat all that yourself."

"I'd like to be given the chance to try," I said. "But I'll never find out, will I?"

Calla dimpled, grinning fiercely. "Never." She flopped into her usual chair and stretched out, propping her feet on the table and watching me. "You name the kids yet?"

I hesitated; I hadn't even thought about it. "Not yet."

"You need to get on that," she reminded me. "You said you'd think about it."

"I'm thinking," I lied, and pushed her feet off the table.

Darius watched us both, amused until he glanced at the door. "Where's Caius? He stay up at the Temple?"

"He's not returned yet," Jauffre answered.

Darius frowned. "I thought he was supposed to be back a week ago." I glanced over, concerned, and Darius' expression did nothing to alleviate my worry.

Jauffre suppressed a sigh. "This is hardly the venue for a discussion of sensitive information." At Darius' frown, he unbent enough to continue, "And Caius being Caius, I imagine he'll return when he's ready to come back and not one moment sooner."

Darius was scowling, perturbed. "He said he'd be back by now."

I brought bowls to the table in a neat stack. "You talked to him?"

At Jauffre's exasperated glance, Darius said, "No. Of course not." _Yes_, he mouthed when Jauffre turned away. _Later_.

-oOo-

Jauffre didn't let Calla stay too long. It was still some hours away from sunset when they left, Calla going back up the mountain reluctantly.

"So Caius was in Mournhold?" I asked, locking the door.

"Briefly." He reached down and scratched at Bastion's ears. "He was only there an hour. Told me you'd had some sort of family issue, with your parents."

"My mother," I murmured, rubbing at my neck. _You're not going to like this._

Darius caught my reluctance and looked worried. "Come on," he said finally, holding out a hand. "It'll be easier to talk in bed."

And it was, to my relief. Curled close under a blanket with his heartbeat thrumming steadily under my ear it was easier to relax. I picked at a button on his shirt idly, taking a deep breath and trying to figure out where to start. As succinctly and unemotionally as I could, I told him of my mother's visit, the string of assassins that had darkened my doorstep, the vampire. Punching him, being bitten and fed upon, being wretchedly ill, the argument underground and slipping away up the ladder. Finding Caius and staying in the castle under the eye of the Knights of the Thorn. My mother's offer of protection in the letter I hadn't read.

I worried with every word. Last time months ago it had just been the Book, and that had been bad enough. This time, matters were worse. But unlike last time, Darius listened quietly until the very end. "And you've been here on your own since," he said when I'd finished, sounding troubled.

"Yes."

He sighed, quiet for long moments. "I hate this," he muttered finally.

So did I.

"All the sentinels at Cloud Ruler Temple don't do you any good in a real emergency," he pointed out. "Neither does the dog. If someone's after you, specifically, they won't just send one assassin. They'll send more and more, one after another until they get you."

I fiddled with the button until his hand came over my fingers and stilled them. "I don't know what to do," I admitted. "Moving into a fortress or a castle only does so much good, you know? Stone walls and bodyguards didn't stop the Emperor from getting killed."

"Don't say that in front of Jauffre," Darius said softly.

"I wouldn't." I bit my lip, worrying. "There's nowhere I can think of that fits. I can't have someone come live with me because I can't explain Calla, and there aren't enough Blades to spare to babysit me as well as her. I can't go anywhere that's close enough without it being a temple or a chapel or a monastery of some sort that I'm forbidden to set foot in." I sighed. "And I don't want to… I can't just give up any shred of independence because of my mother. I shouldn't have to jump at my own shadow and be afraid of every little bump in the night because bad things are out there somewhere." I raised my head, resting my chin on his chest as he watched me gravely. "Does that make sense?"

"Yes," he told me. "Have you had any word from your mother since you were at Cheydinhal?"

"No."

"Any unexpected visitors?"

I attempted a smile. "Just you." My smile faltered. "You want me to move into the castle, don't you?"

"I want you to come home," he corrected, running his fingertips over the little scars on my neck. "Failing that, I just want you to be safe. I don't know that the castle's going to be that much safer than Applewatch. I don't know if anywhere in Cyrodiil is safe enough."

"I know," I admitted. "I don't know what else to do."

He sighed, his forehead creased with worry. "We'll figure it out," he said, not looking particularly hopeful. "We always do."

-oOo-

In the morning Darius was up before dawn strapping his sword-belt around his waist when I sat up in bed, blinking awake in confusion. "Are you leaving?"

He glanced up at me before frowning again at the buckle. "We both are, if you're up for it. Can you sit a horse?"

"Sit, yes. Get up and down… not very well. Don't laugh," I warned as the corner of his mouth twitched up. "Let's strap a pumpkin to your stomach and see how well you get around."

He grinned but didn't laugh. "But if I help you up and down, can you ride?"

"I guess so," I said, bewildered. "Where are we going?"

"Azura's shrine," he said, pushing supplies into a pack. "You haven't made any trips into Morrowind or any chapels on the sly, have you?"

"No. I've done exactly as I was told. It's a miracle, I know," I grumbled wryly at his amused look. "Where's the shrine?"

"North of Cheydinhal," Darius answered, tucking away oranges, and at my expression assured me, "Far north. And it's an easy ride if we take our time." He frowned at the pack and pushed in more food. "If you've done all you were supposed to, it's time to see if we can't get some help. Or some sort of concession, or _something_. It's obedience to Her that's got you in Cyrodiil alone, and it's no fault of yours that your mother's put you in danger. If it's for appearances' sake that you're not allowed in Morrowind, appearances are going to be really bad if She lets something happen to you when you're just doing what She told you to."

Hope and trepidation tugged at me in opposing directions. "You think it'll work?"

His hands fell still. "I think we have to try," he said. "I think there's nothing to lose from asking." He pulled the pack closed and buckled it securely. "I'm going to see about getting another horse. Can you be ready to go in half an hour?"

I assured him I could and he headed out the door. "Well," I said to break the sudden quiet, rubbing Bastion's ears. "On the road again, I guess. It'll be like old times." He snuffled at my hand at the same time the baby surprised me with an awkward somersault.

Maybe not _exactly_ like old times.

-oOo-

Traveling with Darius to the shrine of Azura wasn't quite like the old days we'd spent on the road together. For one, in the old days, we'd never ridden horses. For two, we never used to stop and rest nearly so often. Even though I knew that Darius was erring on the side of caution, the slowness of our pace was frustrating. I knew the mare could make better time, and the trip through the mountains seemed very slow. We headed east, sleeping in shifts when night fell.

Finally I could feel it getting closer: the tingle of familiar magicka, the twinkling of distant stars. Home away from home. Twilight was slipping across the world by the time we arrived at the shrine, shadows settling purple into the valleys as we rode and the smell of roses hanging in the air beckoning us close.

The trio of worshippers eyed us warily as we approached and I tried to contain my curiosity at the sight of the Dunmer men. Most of Azura's worshippers were female, and apart from a few at the Holamayan Monastery I'd never met a man devoted to Azura. Except Darius, maybe, but that was different. "Keep your eyes open, just in case," he muttered in my ear when he helped me dismount. "I may not have given the best impression of myself last time I was here."

"What did you do?" I muttered back, stealing a glance at the ageless Dunmer walking our direction.

"Long story," he mumbled, embarrassed. "It's not important. Just be careful."

"Excuse me," the mer said irritably, frowning at Darius' back. "Unless you have some business here… oh. It's you." Recognition of the Nerevarine or recognition from his previous visit here? I couldn't tell, and the Dunmer's expression had gone blank. "Is there a reason you've come?"

Darius turned back to glance at him. "Guidance," he said shortly, walking up to the shrine and leaving us behind.

"He's going to need an offering," the mer grumbled mildly, watching him go. "If he starts shouting again I'm going to have to ask you both to leave."

"He won't," I assured him, hoping he wouldn't. How long it had been since Darius had been here?

Red eyes fell on me skeptically. "Are you his companion?"

"Yes." Among other things. "I served at Azura's temple north of Vos, on Vvardenfell."

His expression brightened immediately. "Did you? Welcome then, sister. Our hearth is yours."

On a pallet not far from the fire I pulled off my gloves and looked around as discreetly as I could, watching the Argonian priestess pray, watching the pair of Dunmer confer in voices too low for me to hear.

Darius stood motionless, one hand on the shrine with his eyes closed in concentration. Listening, it looked like, but I couldn't know for sure. The well of presence there was deep, and I didn't know if I would have recognized another eddy in the flow of magic around the shrine.

The twilight slipped into night as hours ticked by and a hush fell over the mountains. Beside me, Bastion sighed, huffing warm breath over my fingers as he settled in to wait. At the shrine, Darius stood quiet in the starlight, a hand on the smooth white stone and seeming still as a statue himself. When no sign of what I should do was forthcoming even as the Dunmer slipped off to their beds and midnight crept closer, I rested my head on Bastion's fur and slept.

And dreamed. In a purple-gray netherworld that shimmered half out of vision, I was not alone. A figure approached, wings partially outstretched and standing on nothing, familiar red eyes gazing at me calmly. "Emissary."

The Winged Twilight from the Temple District, the torc twisted silver around her neck. "Hello," I said carefully. "Am I…?"

"You're asleep, at Azura's shrine," she replied, regarding me with detached curiosity. "Is there a reason you aren't asking for aid yourself?"

I hesitated, feeling uncomfortably certain this wasn't an ordinary dream. The Twilight looked expectant, but I knew it would be self-defeating to show up at Azura's shrine and admit that I didn't think anything would happen anyway. "It was the Nerevarine's idea to come," I said at last, cautiously. "I have no expectations of favor."

Her expression didn't change; she merely flicked a wingtip casually. "A diplomatic answer. But an evasive one." Violet hair pooled on her shoulders as she looked away, seeming to listen to something I couldn't hear. "You should be honest, Emissary. I know what you are."

If this was just a dream there was nothing to fear; if it wasn't, she was in my head anyway so there was no point in avoiding the truth. "What's that?"

"Mortal. And afraid." Her attention turned back to me, a faint crease appearing in her brow. "The Nerevarine argues for change of the conditions placed on you."

I suppressed a sigh. "It won't work."

"No," she agreed. "He thinks you'll be safer at a temple, apparently. Or hidden away in Morrowind. You won't." At my silence she considered me again. "You truly don't believe you'll be aided if you ask."

"Not really," I admitted, glancing around to see if I was anywhere in particular, but there was just fog, drifting in misty veils around us. "Should I?"

"It is rather common to have a degree of faith in the power one devotes oneself to," she said mildly.

_I do not require blind, questioning faith. All I require of you is your obedience. _I remembered the words as if they'd just been spoken, etched into my memory in a terrible, beautiful voice.

The Twilight reacted to the thought, looking up as though she'd heard every word. Perhaps she had. "There _is_ middle ground between blind faith and utter doubt, Emissary."

"I've given my obedience," I retorted, stubborn at the thought of being chided in my dreams by a daedra.

The barest trace of wry amusement tugged at the side of her mouth. "So you have. And so graciously," she added, gently mocking. Her attention was attracted again by something I couldn't see or hear; she tilted her head as though she could catch the sound. "Azura will not alter the original restrictions upon you. But there is nothing to be gained from your death and more still expected of you. You will be provided protection for the remainder of your time away from Morrowind. Dependent on your obedience, of course."

"Of course," I repeated numbly. "What sort of protection?"

She didn't quite sigh. "The first of your words will be returned to you. You do remember. The spells at the Temple," she pressed at my blank expression.

"Yes." Only I couldn't exactly remember the word itself. It had evaporated once the spell had been cast, and while I could remember the feeling of the syllables that had tripped off my tongue I couldn't remember the sounds.

The Winged Twilight considered me. "Given the nature of past dangers, you will not be required to speak it. Only think it."

The inside of my mouth burned as if a fiery quill was being scratched along my tongue. "Think it?"

"It wouldn't do to find yourself silenced and helpless again," she told me, the tip of her tail hooking around idly. "A thought will cast the spell. And you will be guarded in sleep." She blinked, cool and placid. "It will be more than adequate protection for the remainder of your exile."

I was as confused as I was grateful at the words. Protection. I'd been granted protection. I really _hadn't_ expected it to work. "And the word will…?" I trailed off, curious and careful. I didn't want to assume too much; it was better to be wary.

"The spell will summon Winged Twilights, as before," she replied tranquilly. "My Winged Twilights, specifically. My sisters and I will await your summons." She shifted, flicking out a wing in momentary discomfort.

The fog thickened, half-obscuring her. "Thank you," I offered. "I appreciate it…" I didn't know her name. Winged Twilights did have names, didn't they?

"Lysicthira," she answered with a glimmer of restrained amusement, seeming to fade into the mist. Lambent red eyes seemed to be all that was left of her; everything else had blended into the fog.

Her eyes closed, and mine opened. Dawn was close, I could tell. Bastion's ears perked as I sat up, dazed, burying my fingers into his coat for warmth. "Morning, boy."

Darius stretched at my other side, mumbled something inaudible and frowned in his sleep, burrowing into my cloak when I pulled it off and draped it over him. The pair of Dunmer and the Argonian were already seated on benches before the shrine, silent in the personal devotion of their morning rituals. With Bastion at my heels, I joined them. I hadn't watched the sun rise with another Azura worshipper since I'd left the temple last summer. Watching dawn come in a breathless hush with the companionship of others like me was almost a gift, unexpected and sweet. When the sun cleared the uneven horizon and I brushed a hand along the base of the shrine, tracing marble roses with my fingertips. _Thank you_, I prayed silently_. For everything._

No answer came from the shrine, but Darius grumbled and sat up, blinking sleep out of his eyes and squinting at me. "Hey. How do you feel?"

"Good. Being kicked in the ribs," I amended, putting a hand to my side. "You?"

Darius laughed a little thickly as he got up. "I feel like I was arguing with a rock half the night. And _lost_." His smile faded.

"We got what we came for, though," I told him. "Protection."

His eyebrows drew together in a frown of confusion. "We did?"

"Yes. Remember the Winged Twilights at the Temple District?" He nodded. "I can summon them. Apparently," I finished. Hopefully this didn't depend on my nonexistent skills with conjuration. "With a thought, so I can still do it silenced. And I'll be guarded in my sleep." So she'd said; she hadn't gone into specifics about that and I hadn't asked. She'd seemed a bit annoyed with my questions anyway. Perhaps it wasn't wise to make demands of more information from the daedra lent to me for protection.

Darius began to say something and stopped, clicking his mouth closed in baffled surprise. "That's good," he managed finally. "Have you tried it?"

I hadn't thought to. "No."

At his expectant look, I frowned, concentrating. It wasn't a proper word. It didn't just mean something or represent an idea. The silver-scrape sound _was_ something: it was the shape of a Winged Twilight, the sharpness of a claw, the hook of a tail, the fierce beauty of unfurled wings. I thought of Lysicthira and the word rang through my mind, a silver dagger pulling free of stone in a bright slide of sound.

The air shivered as a dozen Winged Twilights appeared on the mountainside around us, beautiful and lethal and ready for danger.

Darius' eyebrows climbed nearly to his hairline. "Wow."

Lysicthira was at the fore, a vaguely wry expression on her inhuman features. "Emissary. I assume there's no pressing danger at the moment."

"No," I admitted rather sheepishly. "Just testing." She gave a half-nod and the air shuddered again as they disappeared en masse. Darius still looked vaguely stunned. "This is good, right?" I ventured. "This is what we came for. I'll be safe, now."

He shook himself. "Yes, it's good. I didn't expect… well, _this_. But it'll work." He laughed, still a little disbelieving. "Busy as your mind is I'd expect you'd be thinking the spell all the time, though."

And before I could stop myself I thought the word again, purely by accident, and the air shivered as Lysicthira and her Twilights appeared again, blinking surprise and looking for danger.

Lysicthira didn't bother to hide her sigh this time. "This is going to be a very long season, isn't it, Emissary?"


	61. Chapter 61

The problem, of course, with trying very hard not to think about something is that it becomes nearly impossible to think about anything else. It was like being a child again with a loose tooth, determined not to wiggle at it but still pushing it with my tongue, only half aware I was doing it at all.

The same held true for the spell. The Word, I was coming to think of it quickly. It became apparent early on that my abysmal skills with Conjuration had no influence on the appearance of the Winged Twilights whatsoever.

A week earlier I'd never summoned anything in my life; now I couldn't stop.

Seventeen times between the shrine and Applewatch I summoned Lysicthira and her sisters, and not one of those times was intentional. For the first several times, Darius thought it was funny. Reassurance, I guess, that I was actually going to be protected. But it got old quickly and each time it happened I only got more embarrassed.

-oOo-

The noise of booted footsteps woke me well before dawn the next morning, and I squinted in the dim candlelight at the sight of Darius fully dressed and readying his pack. "Hey."

He looked up. "Hey. Didn't mean to wake you yet."

I sat up and rubbed the grit from my eyes. "Are you leaving? I thought you had one more day."

"I did. Need to make a side-trip before I head back to Mournhold." His half-smile was wry. "To Skingrad. About time I met the family properly, don't you think?"

_No_. My heart sank. "Skingrad?"

"Yes." He considered the contents of his pack, frowning slightly. "Just taking care of things."

I'd thought we'd have another day. "Don't drink anything," I told him. "If you see my mother. Or eat anything, just in case."

His eyebrows rose. "I'll be careful."

I watched him prepare for the trip in disappointed silence. Darius traveled light; it didn't take long before he buckled the pack closed with a sigh. I swallowed hard, already missing him. He tried to give an encouraging smile. "Not much longer."

"I know." I tried to curl up, put my chin on my knees out of old habit, but it had long since become impossible. "It just feels long."

-oOo-

Mid Year was halfway over by the time Caius returned. I was gardening that afternoon, prodding at the cool soil with dirty fingers as Bastion chased dragonflies before he turned and barked at the sight of the figure walking up the path.

"Quiet, mutt," Caius grumbled in irritation when he got to the fence and Bastion still hadn't stopped barking.

"Easy, boy." It took a while to push up from the ground and get to my feet, and when I did Caius was leaning on a fencepost, eyeing me wryly.

"You look like you're having a litter."

I scrubbed dirt off my hands with a short laugh. "You're as charming as ever. Want something to drink?"

"Yes," he said fervently. Inside the cool shade of Applewatch, Caius relaxed into a chair with a sigh. "Hope you like weddings."

"I've never been to one," I admitted, fetching a drink. "You're not getting married, are you?"

His bark of a laugh was loud and genuine. "No. I'm not that much of a fool."

If he was expecting me to guess, he was going to be disappointed. "Who's getting married, then?"

Caius took a long swallow. "Cassian."

Not _the Emperor_. Not _Emperor Cassian_. "Cassian," I repeated, scratching Bastion's ears absently. "Who's the bride?"

A fleeting grimace pulled at his mouth. "Countess Carvain."

It wasn't what I'd have guessed. "Countess of _Bruma_?" At Caius' nod, I frowned. "I'd have thought after the trouble with the provinces he'd look to solidify alliances, not…" I grasped for words. "Not marry someone whose allegiance he'd already be able to depend on." It didn't make sense.

"I'd have thought so, too. This has come as a nasty shock for a lot of people." He settled back in the chair and let out a heavy breath. "Not least of which are the representatives of the provincial noblewomen who'd been half-expecting an offer from the time he was crowned. He's slighted some very temperamental people."

I bit my lip, thinking as I poured a cup of tea. "He has? Or someone's instructed him to?"

Caius grimaced again. "That's the question, isn't it? There's little way to know for certain since no one would ever confess to anything, but I think our Cassian's got a taste of power and decided he likes it. As much as I don't like the thought of him, he's not an idiot. There's a fine mind in there. Somewhere. There's just no heart or soul to go with it." He sighed.

I considered that a moment in silence.

When Caius spoke again his voice was wary. "Have you been getting the newspapers?"

"Just the Courier," I admitted. "And not even that every week. Why?"

He rubbed a spot between his eyebrows. "There's quite a bit going on in Tamriel, for all nobody knows it. Read the newspapers and all you hear about is peace and cooperation, working together in harmony for the good of everyone in the Empire." He took another long drink. "Which is all well and good, except that it's not true."

I tried to determine where he'd been from the way he looked, but couldn't. I knew he'd been in Mournhold, briefly. But other than that, he looked weary and thinner than he had months before. Nothing was precise enough to pinpoint where he might have traveled. "What's going on, then?"

His huff of a laugh was quiet and bitter. "Nothing good." He tapped a finger against the side of his cup. "Cassian looks to be taking the reins with increasing surety. There's a rising tide of religious fervor across Tamriel. Not so much in Bruma," he allowed. "But in the Imperial City there's a vocal and growing population who've become very devout after the events at the Temple of the One, and it's spread like wildfire throughout Colovia. Your brother's escapades aren't helping the situation any," he grumbled.

I blinked. "Brennan?"

Caius sighed. "They're calling him the Divine Crusader. And everywhere he goes, people are following. Into his service if they can fight, into the chapels if they can't."

I bit my lip, thinking of Brennan's distaste at being followed at all. "You think increased faith in the Nine is a bad thing?"

"I think religious zealotry of any kind is a bad thing," he corrected. "And I have the feeling this wave of spiritual fervor is enriching more than just people's souls. Cassian's been extending privilege to the chapel Primates across Cyrodiil, giving out land, money."

I frowned, thinking. "Why? No one gives out power without expecting something in return." Especially not an Emperor.

Caius' expression was grim. "And what do you think he'd expect in return? When the people are flocking to chapels in droves to hear the Primates speak?"

The idea of it made me vaguely ill. "He's… buying the chapels? So that they'll support him?" I finished uncertainly.

I almost hoped I'd got it wrong, but Caius nodded. "That's what it looks like to me. No one's putting it so bluntly. But the chapels have never been the richest places in Cyrodiil and between the flood of new parishioners and the monetary support of the new administration…"

"They're lapping it up, aren't they?"

Caius looked tired. "They don't know enough not to. They think they've just been blessed from what I can tell, and about time, too. But there's more to it, I think. I think Cassian might be maneuvering into a position to put the church under state control."

"What?"

"I don't have any proof," he conceded, pouring more brandy. "But it seems to be heading that direction with very little prodding. And religion would be a powerful tool for him to use if he was ruthless enough to twist it to his will."

_And he is_. Caius didn't say it; he didn't need to.

I thought a moment in silence. "So what do we do?" How did you stop something so subtle, something that looked so innocent on the surface?

"There's another consideration," Caius replied, gazing at me levelly. "You know how many of the nobility of Tamriel are openly known as daedra worshippers?"

I frowned, trying to think. "Not really."

"One. You."

The bluntness of the statement surprised me. "But Darius—"

"Is more a champion than a worshipper, at least as far as the general population's concerned," he interrupted. "But you're a priestess, and you're not going to stop being a priestess once you're back in Mournhold, are you?"

I swallowed hard, apprehensive. "No. I wasn't released from the temple."

He grimaced. "Not coincidentally, you and Darius are also the only two of the nobility of Tamriel who know what Cassian really is."

I was gripping my mug too hard, I noticed dimly, and set it aside. If Caius was getting at what I thought he was getting at, the situation looked dire. "You think he might outlaw daedra worship?" I ventured. "Across the whole Empire?"

Caius nodded. "I think it's something you should be prepared for."

"He'd be _dead_ if Darius hadn't saved him at Ald'ruhn," I snapped, fear and anger churning in my gut. "He wouldn't have a throne at all if not for him."

"And you think Cassian's grateful?" Caius demanded. "When two of the handful of people who know he's a hair away from being an utter impostor are sitting in comfortable positions of power and could talk at any time? There's a saying in Telvanni territory: three people can keep a secret if two of them are dead."

I swore under my breath and rubbed at my eyes. I couldn't fathom it; it was too horrible.

"If he were to outlaw daedra worship, it would be the cleanest way to remove you from power," Caius pointed out. "You'd be criminals; there'd be little need for a war, an invasion. Just remove you, throw you in prison and shrug when you came up the victims of an unfortunate accident."

"So what do we _do?_" I demanded. "If this is the direction you think we're headed, how do we stop it?"

Caius drained the rest of the brandy in a neat gulp. "First things first. You're going to go make friends with Countess Carvain. See if you can't get more information, listen close and see if you can get her to let something slip. She's a bright woman. I don't know that she's going to be crazy about the idea of giving up total control of Bruma and the Skyrim border to go play the small fish in a big pond. She might," he conceded. "I don't know her well and she might be thinking decades ahead instead of just years."

"When?"

"Tomorrow. You've got a private lunch with her at the castle." His glance at me was canny. "As far as she knows, it's a casual visit. I expect you to make sure that it's not."

-oOo-

Countess Narina Carvain was no fool.

I'd heard gossip in Bruma that she wasn't and certainly I didn't expect her to be; no Imperial woman who'd ruled a largely Nordic city alone for the fifteen years since her father's death could be expected to be naïve or weak-willed. She greeted me pleasantly, seeming only a little flustered at the idea that I'd been practically in her back garden for months without her knowledge. Our lunch together was a polite affair for the most part, though she seemed to relax at the delicately oblique suggestion that I was more priestess than queen, still.

It had been Caius' idea: play the novice, curious and non-threatening. If she was already on edge, he said, acting too much like a foreigner queen might push her into silence. I was learning.

It was only after the dishes were cleared away and she asked if I played chess that she appeared to have decided I wasn't angling for anything in particular. In a sunlit sitting room at a low game table, we were close enough for me to see the faint rings of fatigue under her eyes as she set up the board, the minute hesitation of her fingers as though she had to remind herself how to place the pieces. The Countess was as immaculate and well-dressed as any woman could be, but a weary preoccupation hung over her like an invisible storm cloud as though she'd been lying awake nights. With her city safe from the daedra, the Empire at peace for the moment, and having no demands made of her by the Blades, I wondered if it was solely Cassian that was the cause of her disquiet.

The Countess played chess like Calla fought, with a straightforward efficiency so unlike Caius' systems of traps within traps that it took me several moves to gain my bearings. While I was worrying at the inside of my lip, trying to determine if I were really as pinned as it appeared I was and how I should approach the subject of Cassian, she surprised me by bringing it up first. "I'm told you were at the Imperial City this spring, around the time of the Emperor's coronation."

I wasn't properly pinned; a moved knight unraveled the threat and penetrated deeper into her defenses. "Around that time, yes," I answered, glancing up to find her sharp-eyed and holding herself very still. "I wasn't in the Imperial City for the coronation itself."

Her lips pursed a fraction, in dissatisfaction or nervousness, I couldn't tell. I leaned away from the board_. Curious, non-threatening_. "Did you attend?"

"No." Her response was as swift as her answering move. "I don't believe the minor nobility was invited."

I hadn't known that. "It _was_ rather quickly done," I said. "Probably in the interests of security."

The Countess nodded and made a noncommittal noise, looking distractedly out the window as I pretended to study the board, watching her instead.

"Have you met him?" she asked.

I nearly said _Cassian_ before I stopped myself. "The Emperor?"

"Yes."

I slid a bishop into place. "Yes, I have." Nothing more was forthcoming and she rested her chin in her hand, staring unseeing out the window again. "Have you?" I ventured.

"Hmm? No," she murmured, smoothing a nonexistent wrinkle from her skirts. "We've never met."

That gave me pause. "I'd heard you were engaged."

She frowned at the board. "Yes. We're to be married the first of Frostfall." She shifted, the first time she'd looked restless since I'd arrived. "What sort of man is he?"

The truth was out of the question. "I only met him briefly," I admitted, trying to think quickly. "At the time he seemed a bit… overwhelmed, perhaps. The situation was so new. He's rather reserved, I think."

She digested that a moment. "How old is he?"

I frowned; I didn't really know. "Late thirties, perhaps? Maybe as much as forty. I'm not entirely sure."

Countess Carvain went quiet again before she maneuvered her queen into position and looked at me pointedly. "Is there something wrong with him?"

I managed—barely—to conceal my surprise at the question. "I'm sorry?"

"With Emperor Cassian," she clarified, a tinge of impatience in her voice.

_Yes. Everything._ "Not that I know of," I lied. "Why do you ask?"

Her lips pursed again, this time in annoyance. "So much of this seems very irregular," she admitted, frowning. "None of the Counts or Countesses have seen him in person, as far as I know. He's the _second_ illegitimate Septim heir to crawl out of the woodwork at a vitally important time, which seems terribly convenient. And instead of…" She stopped mid-sentence, thinking better of whatever it was she'd been about to say. "He isn't _hideous_, is he?" she demanded, an edge of frustrated humor in her voice and a strained smile twisting her lips.

I had to smile in return. "No, he isn't hideous." I'd never considered him that way before, but he certainly wasn't hideous. "He's rather handsome, actually."

Her eyebrows arched. "Is that so?"

I nodded, glancing down at the board. I had her. Three moves and I'd have her king. Four moves and she'd have mine. I'd never actually won a chess game before. "Yes," I answered absently. "About medium height, build. Nice even features. Very bright blue eyes."

A brief smile fluttered like a hummingbird at the corner of her mouth, a reminder, to me, that for all Countess Carvain was a powerful political figure and before the year was out would be Empress of all Tamriel, she was also a woman little older than I was, pledged to leave home and marry a man she'd never met. I couldn't even begin to imagine it. I felt uncomfortably like I was sitting across from a condemned prisoner instead of an Empress. On impulse, I withdrew a knight instead of reaching for the queen that would give me victory. Retreating, misdirecting, feigning attack on her pair of bishops. A spark of triumph flickered in her eyes as she reached forward and moved into position.

She won and smiled, thanking me for the game. Bastion rose stiffly and yawned when we got to our feet, and Countess Carvain walked as far as the archway to the city with me, making light conversation as we went.

"I have to admit, I've grown rather fond of your city," I remarked, looking over the rooftops nestled into the town below. "I'll miss it when I leave for Morrowind." All except for the temperature, anyway. It still felt uncomfortably cool to me and Jauffre had assured me that for Bruma, this was high summer.

"It's a wonderful place," Countess Carvain said, staring out at the city as though drinking in the sight of it for the last time.

There was more than just wistful sentimentality in her gaze, I suspected. She didn't want to go. "Have you chosen a successor yet?" I asked.

"No." Her expression darkened, though I didn't know if she realized it. She was still looking out at Bruma. "I haven't been told who'll be taking my place." I didn't know enough about Cyrodiilic political structure to be absolutely certain, but it seemed irregular. Caius would want to know, anyway. But she shook herself from her reverie. "You're staying until the end of Last Seed, are you not?"

"Yes, I am." I smiled as a passing child goggled at Bastion.

"I see." Countess Carvain looked thoughtful. "Would you like to return for lunch again next week?"

Caius would have thumped me if I said no. "Of course," I replied. "I'd enjoy that."

She clasped her hands loosely in front of her, still faintly preoccupied. "I'll have my steward contact you. Until next time, then."

-oOo-

The Blades were waiting when I returned to Applewatch.

"Sorry," I said, half-wary as I closed the door behind me to find them assembled. "I didn't know you were coming today."

"We haven't been here long," Baurus offered, glancing worriedly at Calla.

"How's the Countess?" Calla asked dully, picking at the table with listless fatigue. She was pale again, her black hair in stark contrast to her skin, and her shoulders were slumped under her shirt.

"Interesting," I offered, rubbing my hands to warm them. "Had a meal and a game of chess. I'm going back next week," I told Caius, who looked approving.

Later. He wouldn't ask how it had gone with everyone else around.

"You all right?" I asked Calla, dropping a hand to scratch the short hairs on the back of her neck a moment as I moved past. It made her close her eyes and smile. "You look tired."

Her expression soured. "Not sleeping," she grunted, propping elbows on the table and raking her hands messily through her hair.

"Insomnia?"

"Bad dreams," she grumbled. "And every time I have one the kid goes nuts for hours. Which is just what I need after nightmares about Oblivion," she scowled. "To stare at the ceiling getting the crap kicked out of me from the inside until morning."

I pulled out tea and cups, thinking, pouring a generous layer of honey into the bottom of Calla's mug. "I can make you more potion for the dreams, if it'd help."

Calla grunted again, half-muffled by her hands and sounding vaguely affirmative.

"Eat," I ordered, putting a plate of sweetrolls in front of her. "It'll help you feel better."

She was already reaching for one. "Only since you twisted my arm," she answered, still half-sulky and unable to muster a real smile. "You name the kids yet?"

I winced, busying myself with the tea. "Not yet," I admitted. "It's something that requires a lot of thought," I defended at her frustrated huff. "I don't want to get it wrong. Besides, we've still got time."

"_You've_ got time," she muttered darkly, shredding the sweetroll into bits.

It had been easy to let myself forget for a while why, exactly, I'd be taking Calla's child back to Mournhold with me. The reminder of her impending fate made me freeze. "You're not feeling well anymore."

She shrugged wordlessly, a jerky movement. "It could happen at any time, you know? I just want to get the name thing sorted out before I go." Her bottom lip trembled a fleeting second before she grimaced. "Just superstitious, I guess. Everything's got to have a name before it gets a soul." I'd never heard that before. It was another reminder that there was so much of Cyrodiil, of Calla, that I wouldn't be able to pass on. At my hesitant expression, she huffed a tired laugh. "I'll do it if you won't. Toss me a book," she told Baurus, inclining her chin at the bookshelf. "Don't care which one. This is not that hard, priestess. It's a kid. It doesn't have a name. You think up a name, you give it to the kid."

Baurus slid a book across the table to her and she opened it to the middle, scanning the page no more than three seconds before jabbing it with a finger. "Delyn." She looked up at me frankly. "The kid's name's Delyn."

I opened my mouth to protest but she was off again, flipping to another spot in the book and scowling at it as she ran her eyes over the words. "Ought to get your kid too because you're never going to make up your damned mind," she grumbled, scanning. "There. Meris. That's a girl's name, right?"

"Yes," I admitted, "but—"

"No buts," she said, flipping the book closed and pushing it away. "I told you it wasn't that hard. Ten seconds. Done."

"Except that this is a book on Tribunal saints," I retorted. "Which is hardly appropriate—"

"Just give me this, priestess," Calla said, voice dull.

"Actually," said Caius, contemplative. "I think they work." At my expectant expression, he clarified, "They won't be out of place in Mournhold, and they're not foreign-sounding enough to attract notice in Cyrodiil. It could be worse."

Calla popped a tattered bit of sweetroll into her mouth with a half-hearted glare. "It's not the end of the world if I have a good idea, you know."

"Of course not," he replied, humoring her.

Her glance up at me was less sure, though, as her temporary certainty drained away. "What d'you think? You're the one going to be shouting them all the time."

Wisdom and peace, I thought, Delyn and Meris. If she really could go at any time… "I think they're perfect," I admitted. "Thank you."

Her answering smile was bright. "You're welcome. Better to have it settled, you know?" She seemed more relaxed after that, though I couldn't shake the feeling that she was much more deeply grieved than she let on.


	62. Chapter 62

It was frustrating nearly beyond measure to watch the world move around me like a stream around a rock, alone in my house and effectively cut off from everything else.

Calla's condition continued to deteriorate, slowly. She tried to shrug it off, laugh it off, insist that she still looked better than I did. The circles under her eyes deepened and became permanent. The worse she felt the more clingy she became, more starved for touch and affection. She started putting an arm around the back of my chair as we sat together, tugging at my hair, asking me to scratch a spot on her back she couldn't reach and didn't have the fingernails to get properly anyway. More and more often she'd doze off at my table, pillowing her head on her arms. I rubbed the back of her neck when she asked me to, sick with grief as I watched her slip away.

With no promise of a future to cling to, I started collecting scraps of her. Little bits here and there, anything I could find: one of the sigil stones, a scrap of paper she'd doodled on, an article about her in the Courier. A note she wrote one afternoon when she was too sick to come, delivered by one of the Blades. Her uneven scrawl dashed across the pages, ringing with a bravado that was growing falser by the day.

I tucked it all away in a chest. Not for myself—a scattered collection of odds and ends seemed a pitiful way to remember someone like Calla, who couldn't care less about possessions—but for the future. For her son, if the day ever came.

One morning she caught me at it, and she pawed through the chest in curiosity and went quiet when I explained.

The next morning she brought me her sword. "I'm never going to use it again," she insisted when I protested. "Look at me. You know I'm not." Baurus was unpacking armor at the table, wolf-crested and battered. Kvatch. Calla held the sword out, sheathed. "Come on. Let me give what I can. I'm never going to get to do anything else for the poor kid."

I coughed to hide the tears that sprang into my eyes, but she saw them anyway and laughed at me.

That evening a courier delivered a letter from Brennan, his usually measured script gone shaky and the edge of two pages blackened with fire:

_When I first came to Cyrodiil I thought it a wonderful place, more beautiful than anywhere I'd ever been. Now all I can see is misery. The cities are full of the drifting, the outcast and needy. And who cares for these people? Even the chapels turn them out, look the other way. _

_I do what I can. Marie worries, and not without reason, I think. If this should go badly, would you see to it that Marie is cared for? The chapels aren't safe and I don't know that she'll return to them, and in their fervor I don't believe the Knights see how vital she's been to this entire endeavor. I'm afraid they'll discount her involvement, turn her away. I've told her, if I should fall, to seek you out. _

_More and more, I don't think I'm going to survive this. In case I never get the chance to say it again, I love you. Be well._

And two days after that, a note came from Darius, brief and apologetic.

_A—_

_Hate to send this. Really do._

_Last absence didn't go over well. Will probably not be able to come again until first of Hearthfire to bring you home. Ready for this to be over._

_D_

-oOo-

While the townspeople of Bruma seemed proud that their Countess would be the Empress of Tamriel before the year was out, the Countess herself ventured out only rarely, brooding in her castle and surrounded by attendants whose mood mirrored her own. Not that she was ever the most demonstrative of people; she wasn't, at least not in front of me. It was only gradually that the fragments of private emotion she allowed herself began to weave together into a rough sketch, one of anger, and unease, and cautious hope.

I didn't quite know what to make of it.

Caius did, I think, but he kept his opinions about the matter to himself, listening intently when I recounted the conversations between us but offering little comment. When I asked if there was something in particular I should be probing for, he merely told me to keep my ears open.

With no good alternatives, I did. Not just to Countess Carvain, though I watched her closely during our meetings. I strained my ears to listen to the attendants, the servants, hoping to catch any useful tidbits of information they might drop. Nothing. She was as careful about the people that surrounded her as she was with herself, it seemed.

Bad for me, but promising for the Empire, I supposed.

"Did you hear the news about Torval?" she asked unexpectedly one afternoon as we sat together. "The Elsweyr rebellion's supposed to have finally ended."

I'd been reaching for a cup of tea and stopped mid-motion. "No, I hadn't heard. What's happened?"

"The Legion happened, apparently." She glanced out the window at the pouring rain that drummed against the glass. "The capital had been under siege for almost a month, I think. It was finally taken in a surprise attack. Elsweyr's surrendered unconditionally. They've installed an Imperial governor to head the province for the moment."

_Damn_ the Black Horse Courier for only reporting the most inconsequential of news. I'd had no idea. "Who's the new governor?"

"I don't know," she admitted. "Just that the rebellion is supposed to have been crushed. Utterly. I'd heard," she continued doubtfully, "that in addition to Legion soldiers, there were mages being recruited from the Guild all across Cyrodiil. But none of the mages from the Bruma Guild seemed to know anything about it."

A month-long siege, suddenly ended. The Khajiit wouldn't have surrendered easily. Or bloodlessly. And if a governor had been put in place… an Imperial governor... I tried to work through the jumble of thoughts. How many Khajiit had been slaughtered in the name of restoring Imperial order? "Was the Elder Council just completely incapable of reaching a diplomatic resolution?" I asked bitterly, half to myself and too stunned by the news to remember that I was supposed to be pretending naivety.

A half-smile stretched the Countess' mouth as she regarded me. "You think the Elder Council is really capable of such swift resolution? On anything?" There was unmistakable satisfaction in her expression as she laced her fingers around a cup and settled back in her chair, as if I'd just confirmed some long-held suspicion.

I shouldn't have been surprised that she'd been gauging me as much as I'd been gauging her, but nonetheless it irked me to realize I'd given away more than I'd intended. Still. If she knew I wasn't quite the innocent I'd been pretending to be, I might as well gamble and hope frankness got me further than subtle feinting in the dark. "Not the Elder Council, then," I said, tapping a finger on the tabletop as I thought. "The Emperor."

There was bitterness in her flickering grimace. "It would seem so." The thought seemed to give her no pleasure at all.

"He's used a warhammer to do what a chisel would have done," I said, watching the Countess carefully and hoping I wasn't pushing my luck. "The Khajiit will never forgive him for this."

A low rumble of thunder began off in the distant sky, barreling closer until it rolled over the castle and shook the windows in their panes. Countess Carvain toyed absently with the necklace at her throat, looking out at the rain-shrouded city. "I don't know that the Emperor cares what people think of him," she admitted, her eyes distant. "Just as long as they obey."

-oOo-

The afternoon sun was almost warm the next day as I knelt in my garden, pulling onions and carrots. I'd just reached for my basket when the air shuddered in front of me, a violet haze clearing as Lysicthira appeared, wings half-outstretched to catch her balance after the cabbage she'd landed on tilted precariously. She blinked at me, red-eyed and unfathomable. "Emissary."

"Lysicthira." I pushed to my feet with an effort, painfully aware of my muddy hands and knees. "I don… I didn't try to summon you."

"No," she agreed. "I have a message for you." At my expression she continued, "Your brother is coming. He intends to ask you for help."

Brennan? My throat went dry. Had the curse worsened? The sigil enchantment evaporated?

"You're to aid him," Lysicthira continued calmly. "In whatever he asks, you are to provide him assistance and accompany him to ensure his success."

I blinked, confused and unsure. What would Azura want with Brennan? Or why would she want his Nine-given quest to succeed?

Lysicthira was as composed as my thoughts were chaotic. "Do you understand?"

"Yes," I said faintly. "I understand." At her approving nod, I ventured, "Am I permitted to ask why?"

She looked faintly amused, at that. "I imagine," she said, already half-disappearing, "you'll find out very soon."

And with that, she was gone.

-oOo-

Brennan coming to Applewatch seeking aid wasn't a problem; the idea that I was supposed to accompany him was another matter. I was far past the point of being able to sit a horse. It was nearly the end of Sun's Height and I had a month of pregnancy left, six or seven weeks at most.

Unless Brennan needed aid at the far end of my garden, this was going to be an exercise in awkwardness.

But at least I'd had warning. I spent the rest of the afternoon getting my house in order, brewing restorative potions, packing up clothes and food. I left a note on my door, just in case Brennan came while I walked down to the stables to ask if they had a carriage I could contract for the journey, if we needed it. The stable hand seemed embarrassed. They didn't have a carriage just then, but they did have a farm wagon. It would do.

I headed slowly back to Applewatch with Bastion, half-expecting Brennan at my doorstep, but he hadn't arrived.

As sunset slipped over the mountains I leaned on a fence-rail and watched, cradling a cup of tea in my hands as twilight deepened in purple shadows across the valleys. I'd be leaving, soon. Most of the transplants in my garden hadn't taken well, weak with lack of sun and heat. Bruma was simply too foreign for ash yams, and Timsa-come-by flowers fared only a little better, their stalks flimsy and pale. I supposed it didn't matter. The attempt had kept me occupied, which was enough. In little more than a month I'd be back in Morrowind, and Applewatch just a lonely memory.

Dependent on Calla, of course. No one had discussed with me the myriad possibilities of what might happen if she had her child early, if she lived months past when he was born, if I should go home and wait or linger in Bruma until the inevitable came to pass.

Bastion heard Brennan before I did, shaking me from my thoughts. The slow clop of hoofbeats came from the west, drawing closer to the farmhouse as night fell around us. Two figures on one mount came into view, a riderless horse trailing behind.

I smiled at first, thinking it rather sweet that they'd ride together until the horse plodded closer and I could see them more clearly: Marie, limp and unconscious in Brennan's arms; Brennan, bloody and caked in grime, priest robes abandoned for full armor as he cradled Marie in one arm and guided the horse with the other.

I was only vaguely aware of the cup slipping out of my nerveless fingers, falling to the ground forgotten as I rushed over. Brennan's shoulders slumped in relief as I came close. I was sick with dread, eyes tracking over them both for evidence of injury. "What's happened?"

His grimace was tight. "Long story. Marie's…" Brennan's voice cracked, breaking with misery. "Help me get her down, would you?"

It was a careful, gradual thing. He slipped Marie's limp body off his lap and down toward me, grip slackening slowly until I could support her enough that he could dismount and carry her again. I caught hold of the lead horse's reins automatically. "Is she wounded?" Surely there were any number of healers he could have taken her to. Even if he couldn't heal her himself, the chapel at Bruma wasn't far off, the Mages Guild even closer.

"Not exactly," Brennan answered in a voice as dry and thin as dust. "Can I take her in?"

"Of course," I said again. "Let me put the horses away."

My fingers felt clumsy and useless as I set out feed for my mare and the two newcomers. The whole process seemed painfully slow until the practicalities were taken care of and I shut the door of the farmhouse behind me, Bastion clicking his way over to Brennan for an affectionate greeting that didn't come.

Marie lay on my bed, pale and unmoving as Brennan felt for her pulse.

"What happened?" I asked again.

He didn't answer, eyes flicking over to the table, set for three. "Are you expecting someone?"

I settled on the bed beside Marie's body, stroking the back of my knuckles across her clammy temple. "You." At his look of weary surprise I clarified, "I was told you were coming. But I didn't know about this. Is she ill?"

Guilt flooded Brennan's eyes. "Cursed. I think. Not _my_ curse," he muttered quickly, taking her hand in his own.

I frowned, not quite understanding. "Another one?"

He opened his mouth to speak; closed it soundlessly as his fingers tightened around her own.

"Brennan…" He looked up, at that, a quick glance through his hair that spoke volumes of his misery. "If there's something I can do—if you need help—tell me what's happened."

He was quiet a moment, shoulders bowed with the weight of countless unnamed burdens, and when he spoke again his voice was rough. "I don't know where to start."

A long story, he'd said. "Start at the beginning," I suggested, drawing a blanket from a nearby chest and pulling it over Marie. "Tell me everything."

Little by little, the story came out. How they'd traveled together to Leyawiin to retrieve the Mace, the leap of faith, triumph cut short as the chapel had been attacked by daedra.

Aurorans.

After that, he said, they'd quested for the Shield, fighting hordes of conjurers to puzzle out Julianos' riddles, freeing a captive knight along the way and adding to the ever-expanding rank of men and women who followed Brennan's word. There had been a new follower waiting for them at the Priory with the Greaves, Lathon, who'd accompanied Brennan and Marie up southwest of Bruma to Underpall Cave.

Brennan went for the Sword. Lathon went for his master. Neither of them had found quite what they wanted. Lathon had stumbled across the body of Sir Roderick, who'd clearly died in agony. Brennan had been taken surprise by the wraith, bearing the tainted sword and lunging for him with unnatural speed and ferocity. They had fought, viciously, the wraith wearing him down. Brennan paused at the telling, staring off at nothing, his mouth set in a grim line.

I refreshed his cup of tea, watching him carefully. "What happened?"

"He disarmed me," Brennan admitted. "And I… I heard my axe fall somewhere but it was dark, I couldn't see. And Marie was trying to conjure something. I don't know what. The wraith went for her. And I didn't think. I grabbed for the Sword. I didn't expect to actually get it, but I did. I'd forgotten entirely that it was corrupted; I just needed a weapon. But it cursed me, immediately. Yes, _another_ curse," he added with a bitter laugh at my expression. "As as nasty as the first. I hit Marie," he admitted wretchedly, sick with guilt. "I'm not a swordsman; I overswung. The tip of it caught her and she fell. It wasn't…" Brennan stopped, grimaced. "The wound wasn't bad enough to kill her, but even after I healed her she wouldn't wake up. She hasn't for two days."

Her skin was pallid, eyes sunken.

Brennan's mumble was almost inaudible. "I think she's dying."

My heart sank at the words. "You think it's a curse?"

"I don't think it's _natural_. The sword itself is cursed, it… I don't know. I hoped you might know how to help her."

I hadn't the faintest idea. I sat quietly a moment, thinking. "Have you given her fluids?"

"As much as I could." Brennan was a healer, after all, and a good one. "She hasn't responded to anything, though."

"What does the curse do_?_ To you," I clarified.

Brennan sighed, pushing a hand through his tangled hair. "As best as I can tell it's making me… fragile. Weak. It's hard to explain," he frowned. "I feel vulnerable. As though everything is hotter, colder, deadlier. I don't know." He rubbed wearily at his face. "I'm supposed to reconsecrate the Sword at the Chapel of Arkay. I don't know how I'm going to get there, though, with Marie. I'd thought to ask for your help getting there but I'd forgotten…" He trailed off, waving a hand to indicate my condition. "I wasn't thinking, I suppose. It's hard to think, with so much else going on."

Bastion nosed at Marie, but she didn't respond.

Brennan sighed heavily. "If I left her here with you—just long enough to get to the Chapel of Arkay and back—could you care for her? I could make it in two days, I think."

_If you didn't drop dead of exhaustion_, I thought. But something he'd said was prodding at my brain. "You're reconsecrating the Sword."

His laugh was hopeless. "I'm going to _try_."

"Won't…" I trailed off, frowning, trying to recall something I'd read in my study of curses. "Won't reconsecrating the corrupted Sword probably break the curse?"

Brennan's eyebrows drew together in thought, though it looked like the effort was painful. "I don't know," he said finally, settling back in his chair. "I would hope so. But hope hasn't been…" He let the sentence die, grimacing.

I stroked Bastion's shoulder, clockwork wheels spinning in my head. If the curse on the Sword could be broken by reconsecrating it at the Chapel of Arkay, then it stood to reason—as far as curses could be predicted at all, because they were notoriously fickle—that if the curse on the Sword was lifted, the curse on the Sword's victim might be lifted as well.

Might be.

It was a better chance than trying to care for her in the depths of her unnatural sleep and just hoping for the best. I briefly outlined my thoughts, watching his answering silence. "I was told that you were coming," I reminded him, studying the newly haggard planes of his still-young face. "And I was told that whatever you needed help with, I'm to help you. And wherever you need to seek aid, I'm supposed to go with you, to see that you're successful."

His gaze went flat. "Told by whom?"

"A messenger of Azura." I shifted, trying to stretch my uncomfortable back.

"What interest would a Daedra Lord have in my success?" he asked, not bothering at all to hide his skepticism.

I didn't blame him, and shrugged. "Your guess is as good as mine, I think. But if you need to get to the Chapel of Arkay, I'm supposed to go with you."

As far as the chapel doors, anyway. Lysicthira had been less than specific about whether I was supposed to break one command in order to obey another. I'd have to summon her and ask, sometime when Brennan wasn't sitting at my table taut with exhausted tension.

Brennan gave a slight shake of his head. "You can't travel in your condition. It's folly."

My answering laugh was rueful. "Which do you think is more foolish, travelling pregnant or ignoring the order of a messenger of Azura?" When he didn't answer, I sighed. "There's a wagon ready at the stables. Big enough for all of us. It might not be quite as fast as going on horseback but it'll be easier to take Marie. She might need to be there when the curse breaks, you know."

From his expression, he hadn't thought of it. Finally, he nodded, unsteady with weariness and concern. "I don't like it," he emphasized. "But I am grateful." With an effort, he pushed to his feet, trying to stifle a wince. "How soon can we leave?"

"I'm not sure," I admitted, distracted by the seep of dark red from his shoulder. "Are you _hurt?_"

Brennan let out a breath. "Oh. That."

"You healed Marie and you didn't heal yourself?" I asked incredulously, my suspicion confirmed by the bitter twist of his mouth. Self-flagellation, perhaps? He'd hurt her, and not deserved to be healed? I didn't know, and though another time I might have pressed the issue I had the feeling Brennan had been pressed enough already. I crossed the room to my stock of potions and brought him back a small red vial. "Drink. You'll need your strength," I told him. "I can head for the stable, see if there's anyone who's willing to get us started on the road at night."

Brennan drank quickly, punctuating his swallow with a nod. "I hope they can. We could be in Cheydinhal by tomorrow afternoon, I think."

Ice crept in a shiver down my spine. "Cheydinhal?"

He frowned a bit at the sudden trepidation in my voice, confused. "Of course. The Chapel of Arkay's in Cheydinhal."

Cheydinhal. And Lysicthira had said to accompany him, to ensure his success. _I certainly hope You know what You're doing_, I thought at Azura.

Predictably, there was no response.

"I see," I managed at last. "Cheydinhal it is."


	63. Chapter 63

After realizing he'd be much faster than I would, Brennan offered to make the walk down to the stables himself, glancing over his shoulder at Marie as he pulled the door closed behind him. With an inward sigh I doused the smoldering remains of the fire and sat down to write a letter, trying to think of how to explain to Caius exactly why it was necessary that I go with my brother on a quest for the Nine that would take me to Cheydinhal.

_Because a daedra told me to_ sounded inadequate, if honest.

But not ten minutes had passed and only two discarded drafts of a letter written before my door creaked open and Caius himself stepped in, glancing dubiously at Marie and not bothering with niceties. "Who's this?"

"Marie." I pushed away the parchment and quill. "My brother's…" What would Brennan call her? "Companion," I settled on eventually.

Caius' look at her was wary. "Is she ill?"

"Cursed, we think. Brennan thinks," I amended. "Tea?"

"No." He shut the door behind him, dropping a full pack to the floor. "I've got to be on the road soon. Where's your brother?"

"Went to the stables to see about getting us a wagon," I said, trying not to look guilty. "Where are you going?"

Caius' forehead creased. "The Imperial City. Where are _you_ going?"

"The Chapel of Arkay," I hedged, uncomfortable. "One of my… one of the Winged Twilights told me I was under orders to help Brennan."

I couldn't blame Caius for his skepticism. "A daedra wants to help the Divine Crusader?"

It seemed strange to me, too, I had to admit. "Yes. Exactly why, I don't know," I admitted. _But I doubt it's purely altruistic._

Caius frowned. "Chapel of Arkay…" His eyes narrowed. "That's in Cheydinhal, isn't it?" At my reluctant nod he grimaced. "You really do have the best of ideas, you know that?"

"This is not my idea," I told him, suddenly tired. "It would take all day to count up the ways this is not my idea." Why did it have to be Cheydinhal?

Caius sat across from me, shuffling automatically through the papers on my tabletop for anything new he hadn't read. "Just steer clear of your mother, would you?"

"My mother's in Skingrad," I protested. "At least her _shop's_ in Skingrad."

"All the same," he countered evenly. "I don't know that she's given up on you yet. Keep your head and don't let her get to you if you see her."

"I won't," I promised. Hopefully this would be quick. Though really, I had no idea how long it might take to reconsecrate a cursed sword. Hours? Days? I didn't want to be in Cheydinhal for days.

Caius pushed to his feet, still frowning faintly. "I have to get going. Do you have any idea when you'll be back?"

"No." I toyed with the quill, dissatisfied. "As soon as possible."

"Hmm." Caius slung his pack over his shoulder. "I'll be back in a week. Two at most. If you're not back by the time I am," he trailed off and I half expected him to say _I'll come after you_, but he merely looked wry. "Then I'm taking all your liquor."

"You're the only reason I keep it in the house in the first place."

Caius paused by the doorway. "Good. No hard feelings, then. Do be careful," he warned seriously.

"I will," I promised. "You too."

And then he was gone, and there was nothing to do but wait for Brennan to return. Except, I thought doggedly as I called the Word into my head, to see if my limits had changed and I could physically go into the Chapel. But Lysicthira was adamant when I summoned her: absolutely, unequivocally no.

_The chapel steps_, she warned as she disappeared, _and no farther._

-oOo-

Riding to Cheydinhal in a farm-wagon, heavily pregnant, tending to an unconscious priestess and my half-dead brother while the horses plodded on and my dog whined and it rained half the way… somehow it was even less fun than it sounds. While we both took turns seeing to Marie, Brennan seemed dead-set on suffering, refusing meals and sleep with a grim sort of sourness. Never mind that he might need his strength for whatever might lie ahead. When I pointed out as much he only retreated further into himself.

Maybe if we'd had a better idea of what we were trying to do it wouldn't have been so bad, but Brennan didn't know what all went into the reconsecration of an artifact, and he wasn't sure it would lift the curse. On the Sword, yes, probably. On him or on Marie? We didn't know.

It was with mixed emotions that we approached Cheydinhal that second afternoon, weary with travel and looking a bit worse for the wear.

The further we walked into Cheydinhal the more fervently I wished I'd thought to stop before we got to the city gates and asked the Knights of the Thorn for aid. But Brennan was close now, the chapel spire fixed in his vision and the nearness of his goal giving him a second wind.

Twilight was already approaching as we made it to the chapel courtyard, the stone tinged pinkish around us as Brennan stopped short of the chapel steps, staring up at the spire and lost in thought. I'm not sure what I expected—save that I thought Brennan would actually go into the chapel at some point—and finally he shook his head, walking back to the plinth of the great statue I leaned against. "I can't take her in there," he sighed. "I don't know precisely what the reconsecration will require. Or what it might do to…" He trailed off, uncertain.

"To you?" I finished, pained at his flicker of a grimace.

Brennan hesitated. "Everything about this has been wrong. And if it's going to hurt someone… it's Arkay, after all," he reminded me, faintly hoarse with feeling. "Birth and _Death_."

Something caught in my chest, twisted at the thought. "Hopefully we won't have either one today," I told him, following his gesture when he ducked his head. "Hey. It'll be all right."

Brennan's mouth flattened into a thin line. "If you say so. I suppose there's—" He trailed off, head jerking around at a tearing sound and a shrill, muffled scream from inside the chapel. He paled in an instant. "Oh, _no_."

I heard a crash of something heavy, and another scream: a woman, terrified.

"Here," Brennan said, pushing Marie into my arms and the pair of us onto the boulders beside the statue of Arkay, too hasty to be gentle as Bastion jumped aside. "Take care of her."

I clutched at her but I had no lap whatsoever to hold her in, and she slipped gently onto the rock, limp and heavy. "Brennan—"

His axe was already in his hand, eyes already on the chapel. "I have to go." He took off at a run, flinging open the chapel doors in a heavy crash of wood that seemed to shake the stones. The interior was dark, but I could see them anyway: golden daedra the likes of which I'd never seen before, towering above my brother as they sought him out with fathomless eyes and sickly-green axes. There was a chorus of inhuman roars, low and sonorous as they charged and the priests in the chapel fled, horrified, leaving only Brennan to fight them off.

The clash of his axe against the daedra attacking him seemed tinny and faraway, the odds impossible. I'd thought there were four of the beastly things, abominations, but there were six, approaching in a circle. They drew together, tightening around Brennan as he fought with a ferocity I'd never seen him show before, his axe crashing against their armor as he drove the daedra back. But even as the one faltered, wounded, the others raised their weapons to strike. He was outmatched and exhausted, and I shouted at him to get out but he was too beset by the daedra for retreat.

My spell wouldn't make it far enough and I couldn't go in the chapel. I could have screamed. The whole crush of combatants seemed to lurch, pressing through the doors as Brennan was forced to retreat step by step. Vaguely, I was aware of the clamor of the townspeople as they ventured outdoors to investigate the noise, as guards ran over, as the courtyard filled with citizens young and old, but I didn't care: the Word was in my head.

I didn't think it, I shouted it with every fiber of my being and every bit of magicka I could bring to bear, the inhuman sound sliding from my mouth in a rush of silver fire that made the air around me shudder hard. Whether from the act of summoning Winged Twilights at dusk or whether from the force of the call, Lysicthira and her sisters were there in a heartbeat, and then not just them, but the Twilights they summoned, doubling and re-doubling into a veritable army of daedra.

Wings outstretched and claws at the ready, Lysicthira smiled. If she gave a command, I didn't hear it, but as one the Winged Twilights lunged in a fury, falling upon the golden daedra with terrifying brutality. The sonorous roars twisted in pain and rage as the Twilights literally ripped the other daedra apart, armor and elven-looking weapons and limbs falling to the cobblestones with the wet hiss of blood and magicka, claws raking open the shattered torsos left behind to tear out their very hearts.

If any of the citizens watching had believed Azura's creatures to be merely sweet and lovely, I think they were disabused of the notion very quickly. The odds had tilted so absolutely—from one against six to six against at least seventy—that it was over almost before it began. The Winged Twilights stood tall and proud, lovely even gore-spattered and deadly in the aftermath of battle as they turned to Lysicthira, who turned to me, glowing with a fierce, satisfied assurance.

"Lysicthira," I breathed, unable to tear my eyes from her. "Thank you."

There was the barest trace of wry humor in her glance. "Emissary of Azura," she answered, loud enough that her words carried over the courtyard as an inhuman smile slipped across her mouth, ferocious and content. "You are _most_ welcome."

Her chin inclined a fraction in what might have been salute, one messenger to another. The air shivered, easier this time as though in relief, and the Winged Twilights disappeared.

"Well," croaked Brennan as he came my way. "That was interesting."

I stepped to his side. "Are you all right?"

"Yes." He pushed a damp tangle of hair off his face. Shaken, perhaps, and a little battered, but mostly whole. "By the _Nine_."

An unpleasant-looking Breton forced his way through the crowd, a heavy scowl on his face as he loosed a pair of wrist-cuffs from his belt, eyeing the grisly carnage still spattered on the cobblestones. "You!" It took a moment to realize he was talking to me. One hand fell to the sword at his side as he gestured another guard close. "Don't you know the penalty for conjuring daedra inside the city walls?"

I was taken aback, utterly. While it had never occurred to me that there might be such a law, surely under the circumstances it was reasonable… but no, he was readying the wrist-cuffs, stalking toward me and _fetching hell_, I thought, I was not about to go to jail in godsdamned Cheydinhal.

Brennan struggled to his feet, scowling in a mirror of the other man's ire. "You _must_ be joking—"

I took an uncertain step backwards, away from the Breton and his fellow guard, who didn't look remotely like they were joking. "Are you out of your mind?" I snapped, heedless of the courtyard full of people watching. "Did you _see_ your chapel attacked? Your priests were turned out of their own holy place and you did _nothing_ to defend them! And you have the nerve to try and arrest me?" He only stepped closer, and I could have murdered him. "Your city would have been a graveyard now but for the grace of Azura!"

A murmur ran through the mostly-Dunmer crowd, red eyes shifting to meet one another.

"So yes," I finished, half-shouting and nearly crackling with ire. "I summoned the daedra. And you owe the security of your city to those daedra, to Azura, because all the gods know you wouldn't have protected it yourself. Go back to your homes," I told the onlookers, getting rapidly hoarse as I looked around at the assembled people, priests and commoners, children and merchants. "You're safe, now."

The guard looked doubtful but the Breton—who must have been a captain of some sort and used to authority—was utterly unimpressed. "Arrest her."

A cry in a young, familiar voice came through the crowd, "Leland, you fetcher, _stand down!_" Farwil Indarys pushed into view, armored and bright-eyed as he placed himself bodily between the Breton and me. "You can't arrest the queen of Morrowind!"

And the crowd—which had been admirably restrained up until that point—exploded in a clamor of voices. It's not like I was trying for subtlety, I supposed. But Farwil turned, a grin on his face. "_Dammit_, uh… your Majesty. You should have told us there'd be a fight, ma'am! We're the expert daedra-slayers around here."

"I didn't know there would be a fight," I admitted, absurdly relieved to see him. "If I had I'd certainly have called you."

He looked a bit mollified at that. "I wish we'd known. Are you coming up to the castle?"

"Ye—in a moment," I corrected, glancing down at Brennan, who once again had Marie in his arms, sitting on the boulder with her head cradled against his chest. "We're not done here. The Sword," I finished as Brennan nodded, shifting, the priests of Arkay taking Marie gently between them.

Brennan headed for the chapel and I realized I was trembling, and folded my hands together to get them to stop. The crowd dispersed slowly, voices and bodies fading down the streets. None of the townspeople were familiar, and that was a relief.

"Ma'am?" Farwil cut in. "Do you want me to stay, or to get the other Knights?"

I considered it but didn't have an answer, and I glanced over his shoulder and froze at the sight of Brennan at the altar of Arkay, glowing with light.

A pillar of light, white in the darkness, shining with inhuman radiance. Marie's eyes snapped open and she heaved an unsteady breath. "_Bugger_," she mumbled, clutching at her head. One of the priests of Arkay looked disapproving but it didn't bother Marie at all. She looked up at me, eyes large and still sunken, frowning with confusion but very much alive and awake. "Alora?"

"Marie," I began, trailing off at the sight of Brennan emerging from the chapel, eyes alight and barely seeming to breathe.

Whatever else I would have said became completely inadequate. Marie scrambled to her feet and beamed at the sight of my brother, the most joyful expression I'd ever seen on a human face. "_Brennan_."

And Brennan, for once, didn't speak, just pulled her into his arms and kissed her before the entire city, and all the priests, and whatever gods were watching.


	64. Chapter 64

The carriage-ride back was easier than the cart-ride to Cheydinhal had been in almost every way. Still, no means of travel was really comfortable at this point, and sitting down for so long with my daughter pressing up under my ribs, I felt like I could hardly breathe.

"I still can't believe he tried to arrest you," said Marie.

"I think he was about two seconds away from getting on with it," I admitted. "Thank heavens for questing knights." A brief smile twitched at Brennan's mouth, and I remembered belatedly that he was a questing knight, himself. "So what's next for you two? This is the last of the Relics, isn't it?"

Even as I said it something prodded at my brain: Mace, Sword, Helm, Shield, Greaves, Boots, Cuirass, Gauntlets. One for each Aedra… but still. I counted on my fingers, running over the list in my head. "Only eight?"

If there was a Relic for each of the Nine, shouldn't there be nine relics?

The glance Brennan and Marie shared indicated they'd discussed it before. "We think it's the last of the Relics," Brennan admitted, shifting in his seat. "It's the last of the ones we're aware of, anyway. It's possible that there's one more."

Stendarr, Zenithar, Julianos, Arkay… "Which Aedra's missing?"

"Talos," Marie said, slipping the last of her bread to Bastion and smiling as he gulped it down without seeming to chew. "Though what it would require…" she trailed off, faltering with an uncertain look at Brennan.

"Each of the Relics has required something related to the Aedra connected to it," he explained. "For Kynareth's Boots, I had to let the bear attack me, remember. For Dibella's Helm we had to find forgotten beauty in the midst of darkness. So for Talos…" he shrugged. "I'm not sure."

"Conquer the world, perhaps?" I managed. "Doesn't sound too hard. I've got a couple of days free."

Brennan ruffled Bastion's ears fondly when the dog nosed at his knee. "Hopefully nothing so strenuous. For now, we'll head back to the Priory. Even if there is one more Relic, we're nearly done," he said, looking relieved.

Which, as I knew from experience, was usually when the mountain fell right on top of you. But Brennan looked far better than I'd seen him in months, both in body and in spirit, and I couldn't bring myself to mar his happiness with gloom. "Are you going back to Ebonheart?" I asked. "When this is over?"

The question seemed to surprise him. "No. No, I don't think so." Marie wasn't looking at him and didn't see his darting glance at her, the way his eyes went soft. I did. "I haven't decided what I'm going to do yet," he finished quietly.

I smiled, and kept my thoughts to myself.

-oOo-

Caius was displeased when he returned to Applewatch, walking in without knocking and smacking the top of my head with a rolled-up newspaper as though I was an errant puppy. "Subtlety," he stressed, aggrieved. "Discretion. Haven't you been listening to _anything_ I've been trying to drill into your head these months?"

I picked up the newspaper when he tossed it on the table in front of me. "I've been listening," I insisted, unfolding the paper and biting my lip to keep from laughing. The Black Horse Courier, with an article about the daedra 'event' at Cheydinhal. "Subtlety wasn't the point."

"Clearly," he grumbled, settling across me at the table.

"It went very well, considering," I mused. "I didn't see my mother. No one died. And Brennan's much better now that the Sword's reconsecrated."

"And if Cassian's been trying to extend himself through the chapels, and you've made waves for daedra worship on _his_ territory…" He continued, still displeased, "Read the article; it puts the entire thing on your shoulders in the name of Azura. Is that the way it happened?"

I scanned it quickly. "More or less, actually. Farwil Indarys—the Count's son—he's the one that intervened and kept me from being arrested," I admitted. "But everything else is true enough."

"So much for staying out of trouble."

"I didn't know it was coming. And I certainly didn't know about a law against conjuring daedra," I admitted. "Is that common in Cyrodiil?"

"No, I don't think so. The Mages Guild would be passionately against it, I think. But things might be heading that direction. Though you might have made a rather convincing argument for the reverse." He was silent a few moments, eyes narrowed in thought and staring at nothing in particular.

"So how's the Imperial City?" I asked finally, getting awkwardly up from the table to feed Bastion.

"Very Imperial. Very much a city," he answered, faintly wry as he looked over. "Is this a trick question?"

In other words: none of your business. "I was just asking," I said mildly. "Someone in Mournhold once told me that you never learn if you never ask."

He smiled, but he still didn't answer.

-oOo-

At least Calla thought the events at Cheydinhal were hilarious, though that didn't come as a huge surprise. I recounted the story for her when she came to visit and she propped her chin in one hand and laughed, especially when I wondered aloud if she'd been the inspiration for my little moment of public pique.

Jauffre's forehead creased. "And when was this?"

"When we ran away to Kvatch," Calla grinned, ignoring Jauffre's uncomfortable look. "Some fool of a bandit tried to rob us. _Us_," she repeated, "like anyone in their right mind would have tried to take on the two of us together. Champion and Emissary, you know? Even if you _are _just a glorified courier."

"To be fair," I began sleepily, yawning behind my hand, "we weren't armed. Yet," I added at Jauffre's look.

A wistful look came into Calla's eyes. "Was kind of fun, wasn't it? I mean," she amended, "the freezing our asses off part was somewhat less than thrilling. But being out there, free on the road…" She trailed off.

"Throwing up behind every bush and stopping every half-hour to rest," I reminded her.

Her mood darkened. "Better than having to stay put all the time. At least you got to go to Cheydinhal," she complained. "I never get to do _anything_."

The assembled Blades sat in uncomfortable silence, Jauffre wearing a grave look of disquiet.

"You got to save the world from Mehrunes Dagon and Mankar Camoran," I offered at last, watching her twirl a fork in her fingers.

Calla sighed. "That was months ago."

-oOo-

Trouble and heartache, I had always heard, come in threes.

If Emperor Cassian was displeased at me personally for the events at Cheydinhal, I didn't hear about it, not then. Life went rapidly back to normal as Last Seed wore on, the days already shortening as an early autumn began knocking, unseasonably chilly even for Bruma.

My first and smallest sign of heartache came on the seventeenth of the month when I woke up well before dawn, aching and cold. I thought for hours that I'd come down with some kind of illness, even after I took a potion and it didn't help. I paced restlessly in the grayish half-light of my house as the ache coursed through me in inconstant waves and briefly considered skipping going to see the Countess that day, but it was our usual appointment for lunch, and I'd already said I'd attend.

Besides, I thought, Caius would be disappointed if I didn't go and keep my ears open. A little malaise was no excuse. Certainly I'd weathered worse.

Perhaps if I'd spent more time with my mother, or with any other woman who'd ever had a child, I would have known what the beginnings of labor felt like. As it was it took until noon, sitting across from Countess Carvain becoming progressively more miserable until she finally asked if I felt quite well. It was the uncharacteristic concern in her eyes that startled me into the realization that the increasingly clenching ache wrapping around my body was something a bit more significant than a minor illness.

Three weeks early, two full weeks before Darius would be able to come from Mournhold and two weeks before I'd be permitted back in Morrowind. The realization that Darius was hundreds and hundreds of miles away and would never be able to come in time hit me harder than I would have thought.

I begged off for the rest of the afternoon, apologizing to the Countess and claiming fatigue. I headed back for Applewatch with a mix of fear and loneliness, Bastion at my side to keep me steady as I walked carefully down the steps of Bruma.

That's where the messenger found me, a quick confirmation of my identity the only conversation he made before he pushed a letter into my hands and left on another errand.

The second heartache came then, when I cracked the seal on the envelope to find a tear-spattered missive scrawled in a nearly illegible hand: a letter from Marie informing me that my brother was dead.

-oOo-

My memory of what came next is shattered like a mirror, some pieces missing and others twisted painfully sharp.

I don't remember getting back to Applewatch. Instead I remember the coarse texture of Bastion's fur knotted in my fingers, the throb through my heart and body going sharp and dull and sharp again in waves, the white glare of the sunlight, bright in a too-blue sky. The scuff of my shoes on the rocky ground, the feeling that I couldn't breathe.

I remember the sound of Bastion barking and my door swinging open, the dull relief of finding the Blades already there. I remember Calla more than anything, the sound of her voice drowning out everything else when I buried my face in her neck and sobbed like a child.

Caius would tell me later how he'd thought something had happened to Darius, and how he'd pried my fingers open to read the letter I was still clutching, and then my belly hardened under Calla's hand and they'd realized what was happening.

I don't remember much of it, and not at all the way he told it. I remember the gaping hole in the world where Brennan used to be, instead, and the fear as I fell into a darkness colder than the Void.

When I woke up, everything was painfully clear.

Whatever shock had buffered the loss of my brother long enough to get me home from Bruma had faded to nothing, leaving a bottomless grief in its wake. My eyes stung, dry and gritty as though I'd fallen asleep wide-eyed in an ash storm.

"Hey." Calla was beside me, her sharp green eyes worried as her fingers wound in mine and squeezed. "You're up."

_Up_ was relative. I was lying in bed propped on pillows, cold as though my bones had turned to frost. I nodded because my throat was too thick to speak, tears spilling from my eyes without warning and interrupted only by a pain that gripped from my ribs to my thighs, hard enough to take my breath away. When it eased I unclenched my teeth with an effort, pulling my hand away from Calla's because I was dimly afraid of hurting her, and opened my eyes to find a stranger at the foot of my bed, looking terribly out of place. "Who are you?" I rasped, not in any state for niceties.

The stranger—a young Imperial who didn't even look old enough to shave—cleared his throat, fidgeting in obvious discomfort. "Varan, ma'am. I'm… ah. Grandmaster Jauffre indicated that you needed a healer."

Another time it might have been funny—this awkward boy, a healer?—but as it was I only stared at him. He couldn't have been a day over seventeen, still gawky-looking like he hadn't grown into his hands or ears. "A healer," I repeated hollowly. "You."

He nodded. "Yes, ma'am."

Nothing was fitting together properly. "Calla, who is this?"

She smiled, a little lopsided. "He's not lying. He's a monk. Or was. Are you a Blade, now?"

Varan nodded again. "Yes ma'am. I had the honor two days ago."

With an effort, I swallowed, pushing to sit up higher in bed and trying to scrape together what dignity I could with grief tearing at my heart. "Have you ever done this before?"

Varan flushed a bit, flustered and glancing around the wall at Jauffre. "No, ma'am. But I've studied a number of medical texts. I believe I'm prepared to help you."

Studied a number of medical texts. The thought seemed to sink in slowly. "You read about it," I said dully. "In a book."

Calla pushed at my shoulder and _tsk_ed. "There's not many Blades left, priestess, and no one else that can know."

There seemed to be no good answers to that until sometime later, when he approached again to examine me, and couldn't. "I should probably…" he began, glancing dubiously at the hem of my dress as though the sight of my ankle was somehow indecent. His skinny throat bobbed up and down as he swallowed. "Have a look."

His nervousness did nothing but amplify my own. "I suppose."

But he couldn't bring himself to do it. He reached out for the hem of my dress and reconsidered, withdrawing his hand with a pained expression.

Caius frowned. "Is something wrong?"

Varan licked his lips, hesitant. "No. Well…" He stopped short and didn't continue, looking deeply apprehensive and a little sick.

Calla narrowed her eyes at him, suspicious. "You've never seen a naked woman before, have you?"

He flushed abruptly, a deep shade of red that made his ears seem to burn. "No, ma'am."

Caius looked pained, and rested his face in the palm of his hand. "Of course you haven't," he sighed, utterly without humor. "Nine hells, this is going to be a long night."

Varan still looked as though he might vomit from nerves—he made a better monk than healer, I think—and Calla's scowl deepened fiercely. "_Well?_" she demanded.

Of course Calla's ire only made his nervousness worse, and when he began to stammer she pushed herself off the bed with an effort. "Hell with that," she bit out. "I watched a cat have kittens before; this can't be that different." Settling down at the foot of the bed with enough force to make it lurch, she flipped the hem of my dress up to my hips with no warning whatsoever.

I was almost too far gone for mortification, but not quite. "_Dammit_, Calla," I rasped weakly, trying to push my dress back down and grateful for the half-wall between the bed and the rest of the house.

Varan looked faint. "What am I looking for?" Calla demanded before casting a wry look up at me. "Brace yourself, priestess, I think you and I are about to get _really_ close."

"Fetching hell," I choked out. "Could you at least say something first?"

"Sorry," she offered with a quick flicker of a grin before she frowned in concentration, listening to Varan describe what she needed to do while he kept his gaze pinned steadily on the ceiling.

They must have settled it earlier, because as the day slipped away and dusk fell the Blades didn't escort Calla back up to Cloud Ruler Temple like they usually did. She, for her part, was as serious as I'd ever seen her, and as soon as Varan was reasonably sure it would be hours yet instead of minutes he fled for the company of the other Blades, in the part of the house where I couldn't be seen.

Even mourning and wracked with pain, I felt sorry for him.

As night deepened and the hours dragged on, any confidence I'd had began to falter. I had expected it to be painful, but no one had ever told me how exhausting the whole process would be. Curled on my side and shaking, I buried myself under blankets, too tired and miserable to cry and wrung out with effort.

"Come on, priestess," Calla said softly, jostling me when I didn't move. "Not long now." She'd been saying it for hours; it had long since lost all meaning. But she sat with me all that long night, dozing off from time to time on the bed beside me.

Meris was born at dawn.

I think everyone was exhausted at that point—I know I was—but the mood inside Applewatch seemed to buoy as Calla caught the baby under Varan's instructions and wiped her off, grinning at the bleating little cries that filled the house as she tied string around the cord.

"Now, if this was kittens, you'd be licking her clean. Ye gods, what a _mess_," she said, eyeing the bed and passing Meris off to a surprised Caius without a second thought. "Most disgusting little miracle I've ever seen. You know these blankets are ruined."

"I know," I agreed tiredly, not particularly caring.

Caius frowned consternation, adjusting Meris in his arms. "Did it occur to you at all to give the baby to her _mother?_"

Calla barked a short laugh, wrestling with cloth. "In a second. That dress is ruined too, let's have it." She helped pull it off over my head, soaked with blood and other things I didn't care to think about, and as soon as it was in a heap on the floor she set to rummaging in my dresser for something else for me to wear.

Meris fussed, growing louder against Caius' chest and waving her arms, and he broke into a grin as he looked down at her. "You're Darius' little girl, all right," he told her, amused. "Haven't heard complaining like that since he showed up at my door in the first place."

Once Calla tugged a clean dress down over my head he sat down beside me, still smiling. "Here," he said, handing her over.

I was transfixed by the sight of her, the ruddy cheeks, the fuzz of dark hair, the puffy brown eyes and the tiny fingers. "I didn't—" I glanced up at Calla, disheveled and tired and leaning on the bedpost, and I stopped, lost for words. "Thank you," I offered finally, voice cracking. "For everything. I…"

"You're doing great," she told me, something wistful and faraway in her eyes, and she shot me a watery smile before it faded and she headed for Jauffre.

I was too tired for composure, even if I'd tried, and it was all suddenly too much. I looked down again at Meris, tracing a finger around the seashell curl of her little ear, and could only think of how Brennan would have loved her. I held my daughter close, crying quietly, helpless in the face of an overwhelming surge of love for my child and the raw despair of losing my brother. I was caught between times, between feelings, at once full of love and full of loss, feeling my heart break and mend over and over and knowing it would never be the same.


	65. Chapter 65

"Priestess, wake up," a voice hissed in my ear. I opened my eyes to find Calla inches away, smiling wolfishly with her hair on end. She put a finger to her lips. "C'mon. You've got to see this."

For some reason it was a surprise that I ached all over, parched and shaky as she helped me to my feet. When she peeked around the half-wall I followed her example.

Jauffre was holding Meris, sitting in the rocking chair, pushing lightly back and forth with her cradled in his arms as casually as if he did it every day. "She woke up a little bit ago," Calla murmured near my ear. "He said to let you rest."

It was almost inexpressibly sweet—either that, or I was still exhausted and overemotional—but we weren't exactly the quietest pair of women in the world and it was only a moment before he looked up. "Ah, good, you're awake."

"Are you hungry?" Calla asked over her shoulder, heading for my pantry. "I bet you're starved. _I'm_ starved. Priestess?"

But I was distracted as Jauffre stood and slipped Meris back into my arms before walking outside. "What? Yes. Where's Caius?"

"Went into Bruma," she answered, pulling out an enormous amount of food. "Sit," she ordered, jabbing a finger in the direction of the table.

It was odd. I'd been pregnant so long I could hardly remember what it felt like not to be, and now that I wasn't I felt awkward and off-balance. My eyes still felt gritty and raw and I was wrung out as a dishrag, body, mind, and soul.

Gods, I missed Brennan. As soon as I thought it, it made it worse. I couldn't think about the gods without a dull roar of anger burning in my chest. What kind of gods were they if they dragged their most faithful Crusader through hell and curses and heartache only to let him die? But the thought of it made me more unsteady than I could afford to be with Meris in my arms. With the utmost care I crossed the room and settled at my table as Calla piled food in front of me.

I didn't have the heart to tell her my appetite had died.

Once she'd settled into the chair beside me, she held out her hands for Meris. "Here. I'll hold her while you eat," she offered.

I clutched her closer, unwilling to let go. "That's all right." I fumbled with the bodice of my dress. "I should feed her."

Guilt clotted in my belly at Calla's look of disappointment. "All right. After that, though," she insisted, and I could only nod.

-oOo-

The rest of the day trickled by in a haze of sleep and uneasy quiet as Applewatch became temporary Blades headquarters, well-guarded in a wide perimeter with Baurus and Jauffre spending most of the day at my table and Calla never out of arm's reach.

It was noon before Caius came back, and another half-hour before I remembered to pull him aside. "Brennan told Marie," I began quietly, my throat tightening at the thought, "he said for her to come find me if anything happened to him. She might be on her way and—"

_And if she shows up at my doorstep, with Meris born and Calla pregnant, it could be a disaster. _

But Caius merely gave a quick nod. "I'll take care of it."

Later at the table, Calla finally frowned and reached for Meris without asking. "Eat, priestess," she insisted, tucking the baby against her shoulder with surprising surety. "Eat _something_. Orange?"

I shook my head numbly, feeling unaccountably bereft without Meris in my arms, my hands empty and awkward. But I picked at a plate of food anyway, a meal I ate without tasting, throat almost too thick to swallow and heart heavy in my chest.

"So," Calla said briskly, lips against my daughter's hair. "On a scale of one to oh-merciful-Stendarr-kill-me-now, how bad _was_ it? Just curious."

I tried to think about it but the memories were already distorting, rippled like water and slipping away. "I'm not sure," I admitted, taking a deep swallow of tea as I considered. "It's hard to say. But I'm never doing it again, I know that much."

She made a noncommittal noise. "It didn't seem as bad as all that. You didn't even call Darius a bastard."

I couldn't remember anything I'd said, or if I'd really spoken much at all. I _did_ remember being uncomfortably aware of Baurus and Jauffre and Caius being present and had made an effort, for as long as I could, to be as quiet as I could. Granted, I'd given up rather completely near the end.

"_I_ have every intention of screaming my damned head off," she told me, grinning. "And using it as an excuse to tell everyone around exactly what I think of them, and shouting about Martin so loud he hears me and shouts back. For old times' sake."

Jauffre's sigh was pained, if faintly amused. "You'll be giving birth in the basement, then, so all of Bruma doesn't hear you?"

"Probably," she agreed with a bright laugh. "You'll have to come, priestess, it'll be a hell of a show. And then you can go mucking around in _my_ fun parts."

Bastion slipped his head gingerly into my lap and the familiar affection made something ease a tiny bit in my chest. "Well, when you put it like _that_," I offered with a humor I didn't really feel, but I knew that she was trying to make me feel better, and I tried to meet her halfway.

Calla looked hesitant for some reason when she glanced at me, stroking a line down Meris' back. "Sleepy again?"

_I just want to lie down and not hurt for a while_, I thought, but I didn't want to say that to Calla. "A little," I admitted, but instead of giving back Meris she said she was tired too, and though I had my doubts about the bed's capacity to hold us all we tucked down together with Meris in between us.

-oOo-

Meris' fussing woke us later as she stretched my direction, open-mouthed. Calla laughed a little at the sight of her, throaty with sleep as she sat up a little with an effort, looking around. "Hell," she said, faintly amused. "S'already getting late. We've been sleeping half the day, feels like."

I stretched out, trying to think. "Nearly sunset, I think. Twenty minutes or so."

Calla grinned, propping herself up on one elbow. "Really?" At my nod, she rubbed Meris' head softly. "Let's go watch it. It's been a while. I could use some air."

So could I, though I didn't realize it until we went outside, flanked by Caius and Baurus and breathing deeply in the waning sunlight.

We settled side by side very carefully on the doorstep, Calla with a stifled groan and Meris tucked in a blanket against me as she nursed with tiny smacks and grunts, and I couldn't help the smallest of smiles at the thought that she certainly seemed to have her father's appetite.

_Not long_, I told myself, _not much longer until Darius can come. _I wondered what he'd think of our daughter.

Calla smiled down at her. "What do you call an Argonian with one leg?"

I could only blink at her. "I'm sorry?"

She looked tired, the smudgy circles under her eyes deep and purple, but it didn't diminish her swaggering grin in the slightest. "It's a joke, priestess. It's funny. What do you call an Argonian with one leg?"

I know she was just trying to cheer me up, but I didn't feel much in the mood for laughing. "I don't know," I said finally, humoring her. "What?"

Calla snickered. "I-Lean."

I raised an eyebrow, not particularly amused. "That's kind of terrible."

"What do you call an Argonian with _no _legs?" she pressed on.

I could feel my forehead crease, confused. "I don't know."

Calla grinned. "Ground lizard."

I suppressed a sigh, shifting on the stone of my doorstep. "That one's _really_ terrible."

"What did one Khajiit say to the other?"

I was running out of patience. I shifted Meris, straightening my bodice, and glanced out at the horizon. "What?"

She chuckled. "Hell if I know, I don't speak cat."

I rolled my eyes. At my expression she slumped a little, mouth twisting. "Fine, if you're not going to laugh then do the scritchy thing on my neck."

"You're worse than Bastion," I told her, freeing a hand to scratch the back of her neck where the hair was short and blunt.

"Yeah, well," she mumbled, leaning into it.

It felt odd to watch the sun set with my daughter in one arm and the other arm half-around Calla. It felt odd to watch the sun set at all; I hardly felt myself.

Calla made a soft laughing sound.

"What's funny?" I asked, glancing down at her. She was smiling, eyes closed and orangey light making her hair look like dark fire. The corner of her mouth twitched up higher and she gave a soft, quiet sigh, her back falling under my forearm as she exhaled.

The third heartache came then, in the moment I waited for her to take another breath, waited for her answer, and it never came.

"Calla," I said, a prickle of fear making my skin rise in goosebumps. "Calla, come on."

Her head lolled as she collapsed against me, crumpling into a heap of deadweight in my lap I couldn't catch as I frantically tried to shake her awake and couldn't.

As the bottom dropped out of the world I tried to shout—for Caius, for Jauffre, for anyone—but there wasn't any air and I couldn't breathe. It was Baurus who shouted instead, panic and dismay as every Blade in sight sprinted for Calla, and I could only watch in horror as they picked her up, limp and lifeless, and carried her inside.

What happened next would haunt my nightmares for the rest of my life.

The Blades shouted, anguished and desperate, calling her name over and over as they tried to shake her awake, pouring a potion between her lips that only trickled uselessly out of her mouth, leaning over her where she lay sprawled on the floor and trying to save a life that was already clearly gone. There were tears in Baurus' eyes when he looked up and asked the question, and Jauffre—who seemed very old, then, bent low under the weight of command and a terrible grief—Jauffre gave the order.

It was as I had seen it before: Calla, dead and bloodless, cut open at the belly.

Caius did it, whether because he was the only one not tear-blinded or whether he was the one who produced a dagger fastest, I don't know. His hands shook as he pushed his blade into her, trying to be careful, trying to be quick.

I had thought—stupidly, because I knew better from Ald'ruhn—that I would run out of tears in mourning Brennan, that I would eventually have no more left. But I sobbed then, tears streaming down my face as I watched, broken-hearted, and this time I wasn't the only one.

It was Baurus, then, that reached in, pulled out the small, limp boy; Baurus who gave a low, wordless cry at the sight of him: terribly still, terribly blue, and absolutely silent. It was Baurus who breathed life into his frail little body, forcing air into the tiny sunken chest until the baby sputtered, gave a heaving cough, and began to wail.

It was Jauffre who took him. I have never seen a man so sad without weeping and how he bore it, I don't know. He took the proffered materials—cloths, a length of string, a blanket—in silence, tending to the newborn boy with a reverent gravity that made me cry all the harder.

He had done it before, that much was clear in the practiced tenderness of his hands, in the sureness with which he swaddled him. Martin, Caius would tell me later. Jauffre had cared for Martin as an infant, briefly, long ago.

As he pulled the swaddled bundle to his chest—the crying little boy, nearly swallowed by the blanket—he glanced down at the floor, at Calla as the Blades drew a sheet over her. What he thought, what he felt at that moment, I don't know. But he caught my eye and nodded at the door, and with Caius behind me I followed Jauffre outside, lost in a screaming, bottomless despair as though it was all some horrific nightmare, half-expecting that surely any second now I'd wake up.

It felt like hours had passed inside Applewatch, not minutes. It was a surprise to discover the sun still lingering on the horizon, twilight settling soft over the world.

Delyn was born at dusk.

"You made a promise," Jauffre began, standing in my garden, voice rough with grief and somehow formal as Caius pulled Meris gently from my arms. "To Calla. Do you intend to keep it?"

I swallowed hard, unable to keep my voice from breaking. "Of course I do."

Jauffre's shoulders squared a fraction, a muscle jerking at his jaw in a tension so strained I felt he'd snap. "You will take vows, and they will be binding. There is no release, save death."

As though I would change my mind; as though I could. My course had been set half a year before. I nodded, wiping away tears. Jauffre stepped forward, shifting the swaddled child and settling him into my arms. "I thought… but Darius—" I protested. We were supposed to wait for Darius, he was supposed to be here and I wasn't supposed to do this alone.

"Some things cannot wait," Jauffre said, his hands at his sides and his gaze on the boy until he looked at me gravely, eyes red-rimmed and stern. "It is a matter of protection, a matter of absolute necessity. You will do what you must."

The baby—Delyn—squirmed in my arms, eyes squeezed closed as he wailed, lip quivering. "I will," I said finally, kneeling carefully at the press of Caius' hand on my shoulder, pushing down and holding me steady as I bit my lip in a futile attempt to stop crying, drawing blood as my head bowed.

"We do what we must," Jauffre said softly, sounding far away. "Even if it kills us, even if it breaks our hearts."

Though I wasn't looking at him and didn't know if he was speaking to me directly, I nodded again, blinded by tears.

"Then swear," he said, and laid a hand on my head.

In the garden at twilight I spoke the words, broken as they were with grief. Perhaps it was a sort of magicka I didn't know, perhaps it only felt unfamiliar. Either way, it seemed to wind into my very soul as I knelt before the Blades, before their gods and mine, and swore.


	66. Chapter 66

Of the rest of that day, perhaps the less said the better. Months and months of knowing that Calla was dying did absolutely nothing to lessen the grief of her being gone_. _The Blades' remarkable efficiency helped not at all. Within half an hour it looked like nothing had ever happened at Applewatch. Her body was wrapped and taken to Cloud Ruler Temple, the bloody blankets burned, the floor scrubbed clean.

It made it worse, somehow. They had their own rituals for mourning the dead, for honoring the life of the fallen. I wasn't part of them.

I was left alone at the farmhouse, a crew of guards outside the door and a yawning emptiness inside. I walked barefooted across the floor, drifting like a ghost from the door, the cradle, the fire, the door again. I couldn't bear to be still because if I stopped to think about anything I would catch glimpses of the abyss of grief stretched out beneath me, dark and bottomless and ready to snuff me out like a candle.

The babies slept. It might have been easier if they hadn't so I could busy myself with the thousand mundane details of tending to children; as it was they were quiet, tucked together in the cradle, side-by-side and peaceful.

Still, something lurched in my heart every time I leaned over to look at them and after two days of birth and death and unspeakable grief, my stamina was nearly gone. I reached for Delyn, carefully and willing my hands not to shake, settling down into the chair and rocking him close. When he stirred sleepily I made small noises of reassurance, a broken, tuneless lullaby that seemed very small in the oppressive silence of the house, drowned in the endless sprawl of darkness that lay outside.

-oOo-

It was very late when the shimmer-sound of familiar magicka startled me, the pulsing press of a spell close and bright. Clutching Delyn close, I turned to the noise to see a slight figure topple off-balance and crash to the ground, groaning as she tried to stand up and promptly cracked her skull on the underside of my table. "Ow," she complained with a hand to her head.

I knew I should have been surprised that my mother had just appeared in my house but I was too far gone for shock. A dull, faint interest was all I could manage.

Mother's fingers rubbed at her head, gingerly. "I always forget how much I hate mage-travel." At the sight of me her hand fell away, expression softening as her gaze rested on the swaddled bundle in my arms. "Oh, sweetheart. I didn't know—"

It registered, somehow, that she was entirely too cheerful for a woman whose son had just died. The grief in my belly that was almost too vast to feel sharpened, twisted into something ugly and cold. "What do you want?" I rasped.

She stepped closer. "Brennan sent me. He… he's coming, soon, but he had to finish up at the Priory and he wanted me to tell you that he's alive. He was…" She trailed off, looking near tears. "He was adamant that you know as soon as possible that he's fine."

My mind roared in a hot fury. A trick, it _had_ to be a trick, just the latest deception in a long chain of lies. But why would she lie about this? "I don't understand," I managed.

The laugh that tore from her throat was ragged, her shrug completely devoid of its usual grace. "Neither do I," she admitted. "But it's true. It's… it's some kind of miracle, I think. He's alive," she said again, and I could see now that she was closer how tired she looked, her clothes rumpled as though she'd been wearing them for days.

As fervently as I wanted to believe her, I couldn't. "How?"

"I don't know," she said quickly, eyes mournful as she looked at me. "I don't know that even _he_ knows, but he'll be here soon and—"

There was a double-knock on my door and a muffled, "Ma'am?" from the other side.

I'd nearly forgot about the Blades. They had to have heard my mother talking. "I'm… _damn_," I said, pushing out of the chair with an effort as my mother automatically drew closer to help and then thought better of it. I opened the door just enough to see the two guards posted keeping watch. "My mother mage-traveled in," I explained, cracking open the door wide enough for them to see her wave a hello.

"Very good, ma'am," one of the guards said briefly, turning back to his post apparently unperturbed.

If it had been _Caius_…

"Bodyguards?" my mother asked after the door was closed again, but I didn't get the chance to answer because Meris stirred, fussing a moment before breaking into a full-throated cry. Mother's head jerked around in surprise, a look of incredulity breaking across her face at the sight of the baby in my arms, at the cry of another baby in the cradle. "You had _twins?_" She didn't wait for a response, crossing over to the cradle and lifting Meris into her arms before I could say _no, don't_.

"Oh, look at you," Mother cooed, her expression so tender it made my heart hurt. Meris' cries quieted to whimpers as my mother tucked her close, stroking her hair with gentle fingertips. "You're a lovely little thing, aren't you? You certainly are." She looked at me and laughed in delight. "Did you have any idea or did it take you completely by surprise?"

And that was it. I didn't even have to lie. She saw what she expected to see, no more.

"It caught me off-guard," I managed, overwhelmed and not sure what to make of everything. I had told her to leave me alone and she hadn't; I should tell her to leave because it wasn't safe—

"What did you name them?"

"Meris," I told her. "And Delyn."

Only I hadn't named them, Calla had named them, and at the thought I sank into a nearby chair because it was too much and I was too tired to stand. _Please don't ask me anything else_, I thought, knowing it was a lost cause.

But instead of more questions there was another shimmer-swirl of magicka and a pair of figures appeared: Marie, steadier than my mother had been, and Brennan, in the flesh. Even though my mind screamed that it was him, really him, some part of me screeched backwards in doubt. A trick, a lie, _something_. But it was real, somehow, really him that crossed the room and dropped to one knee at my side, pulling me into a tight, one-armed embrace. "Oh, heathen. You've no idea how glad I am to see you," he managed, sounding tired and strained.

My eyes were already aching and raw and bursting into tears against his shoulder didn't help any, but I clutched at him with my free arm as relief washed over me like a dam breaking. In my arms, Delyn stirred awake with a mewl and Brennan pulled away to look, a grin spreading across his face. "Oh, _wow_. You've been busy."

Another knock came at my door, the voice this time wary and confused. "Ma'am?"

It was a sharp reminder of _what_ the guards were guarding, and I tried to swallow around the enormous lump in my throat to tell my mother that she really should go when the door opened and Caius walked in. He looked at my mother with a baby in her arms and went colder than I'd ever seen him, rounding on me with genuine fury. "_Alora_."

"I didn't!" I insisted, still crying and now indignant. "I wouldn't!"

My mother seemed to shrink in place. "She didn't call me. I only came to tell her about Brennan," she explained. "I should go."

"Yes, you should," Caius bit out, scowling.

Brennan and Marie shared a glance, bewildered. "Why?"

My mother hesitated, looking caught. "Cedric's still with Eyja," she said at last. "I should get back to him. Here, then." She shifted Meris in her arms and handed her off to Caius, an unreadable expression on her face. "Take care of her, would you?" When he didn't answer, my mother retreated. "Could you send me home, Brennan?"

He pushed to his feet, looking askance at Caius. "Yes, of course. Are you—"

"The sooner the better, sweetheart," she interrupted, clasping her hands in front of her before fixing me with a look. "You know if you ever need anything, all you have to do is ask."

I didn't have a response to that, and after a moment my mother stopped waiting for one, smiling at Brennan as he cast his spell and she disappeared.

"That's so much easier without that curse," he admitted. "I had no idea how much I relied on spells until I couldn't focus enough to cast them properly." He seemed to shake himself, frowning in concern. "What are you doing up? You should be resting. In _bed_," he insisted, in a tone that didn't lend itself to argument.

Not that I felt like arguing. But the dawning relief at the knowledge that my brother was alive only sharpened the loss of Calla and another wave of tears surprised me, catching in my throat.

If Brennan was surprised, he didn't show it. "Here," he said quietly, taking Delyn with gentle hands. I remembered belatedly that he was a healer and knew babies probably much better than I did. "Rest," he said firmly, settling Delyn down into the nearby cradle. "I'll be back soon."

"You're leaving?" I managed.

"Just for a moment." Brennan shot another curious glance back at Caius. "I'll be back as soon as I can. Rest." He dropped a brief kiss on my forehead, cast a spell, and was gone.

-oOo-

I couldn't rest. I didn't know where my brother had gone and I was reluctant not to have him with me, as though this was all a dream and he'd be dead again when the dream was over. I stared up at the ceiling until a bright spiral of magicka from the other side of the half-wall drew my attention, and I jerked upright and crawled out of bed, dazed and shaking and wondering what was funny when I heard Caius give a short laugh.

"Not a _word_," came Darius' voice from the other side of the wall, wry and rough. "I was asleep."

And then he was there: shirtless and barefoot with his hair standing on end, but there. His face fell at the sight of me, all trace of humor gone. Of course Brennan couldn't have told him about Calla, but from the look in his eyes I think Darius knew immediately. "Hey," he said into the top of my head as he embraced me.

"Hi," I croaked in return, shaking with the force of not crying out loud.

He muttered so low only I could hear, "Was it bad?"

I could only nod, swallowing tears and holding onto him as though he was my only anchor against grief.

Meris startled awake in Caius' arms, wailing loudly at some unknown aggravation, and Darius's head jerked around immediately. "Is—?" At my nod he let go of me, turning with an expression on his face I'd never seen before.

Caius' earlier ire had faded and he chuckled at the look on Darius' face. "Do you intend to stand there slack-jawed the rest of the night or are you going to come meet your girl?"

Darius shook himself. "I'm… _yeah_." He stepped forward, a grin flickering on his face as Caius settled Meris into his arms. The sight of him gazing at our child made something ease inside of me, like a balm to my flayed-open heart. For a moment everything seemed to grow hushed and still; for once, in Bruma, I felt warm. "Oh, _Azura_," he breathed, holding her close. He laughed a little raggedly, torn between joy and something else. "She's perfect."

"You might sit down before you fall down, lad," Caius told him, still amused, and for perhaps the first time in his life, Darius obeyed without hesitation.

"You shouldn't be up either," Brennan told me. "Go sleep. Don't worry; we're here."

I protested even as I crawled into bed. "But if—"

"We'll be here," he repeated gently, glancing over at Delyn as he began to stir. "Do you want him?"

I did, and I didn't know if it was natural or an unforeseen effect of the vows I'd taken. He already seemed like he belonged in my arms, as much my child as though I'd borne him myself, and even as the thought made me ache for Calla, the little warmth of him beside me lulled me asleep.


	67. Chapter 67

It was a very crowded little house that next two weeks, an immeasurable relief after the loneliness of the previous months. Darius just growled at the suggestion that he might have things to do in Mournhold and Meris was hardly ever out of his arms. He was utterly taken with his daughter, grinning like a lunatic at the sounds she made and swearing up and down that she'd actually smiled at him once. Smile or no, she was never happier than she was with him. He could quiet her faster than anyone else, could soothe her to sleep every time.

I might have been jealous if Delyn hadn't been in my arms all the time, just as content with me as Meris was with Darius. Brennan and Marie stayed on those two weeks as well, sitting at the table with Darius swapping stories, holding the children or cooking when they weren't out for walks together in the mountains of Bruma.

Caius was there, sometimes, but for the most part Jauffre required him at Cloud Ruler Temple.

Baurus came once, slipping the ring I'd given Calla out of his pocket when we were alone outside. "She said to make sure this got back to you," he told me.

I shifted Delyn to my shoulder, uncertain at the sight of the silvery band. "I gave it to her to keep," I told him. "It doesn't feel right to take it back."

"She said you'd say that," he said amiably. "And said in that case, hold onto it until Delyn's big enough for it."

I bit my lip in a sudden upwelling of sorrow, but nodded, taking the ring.

"Here." Baurus held his hands out and I passed Delyn over, slipping the ring back onto my thumb and remembering the words of that bastard enchanter back at Mournhold: _good friend that gave it to you?_ I'd nodded, then. Now the simple little ring had been given to me twice by the best of my friends.

When I looked up again Delyn was waving his arms, unsteady as they bobbed out and bumped against Baurus' chin, making him smile.

"He doesn't look much like Calla," I said, crossing my arms against a gust of chilly wind and looking at Delyn. He didn't look anything like Calla, truth be told. "Does he look like Martin?"

Baurus looked him over consideringly, hefting him a little in his arms as grief and humor intermingled into something gentle in his expression. "Well," he said at last. "Martin was taller."

Jauffre never came.

I didn't blame him.

One morning I woke up before dawn to find Brennan already awake, and leaving everyone else to sleep in peace we slipped outside, sitting shoulder-to-shoulder on the doorstep.

"There's something wrong, isn't there?" Brennan asked, eyes gentle. "You seem like you're mourning. And it's more than being homesick, or thinking I was dead. Has something happened?"

I should have known he'd pick up on it. I nodded wordlessly, taking a deep breath to fight back the prickly feeling of tears.

He didn't ask any questions, just settled an arm around my shoulder. "I thought so."

For some reason, just knowing that he knew—in the general sense, if not in the specifics—made it a little easier. For a long time we were quiet, reflecting, separate and together at the same time and watching sunrise creep closer.

"Did you find it again?" I asked as the stars began to fade. "Your faith, I mean."

"Oh." Brennan huffed a quiet laugh. "Yes, I think. And no. I did what I had to do, for the gods," he explained at my quizzical expression. "Because I had to do it. And I don't regret it." He sighed as he looked up at the sky. "But as far as the chapel goes, I'm done. I've done what I can; anything more would be…"

I waited, but he didn't finish the sentence.

"But my faith in _people_, yes, I found that in abundance. I wish you could have seen. The smallest gifts of kindness people pass to each other every day, to friends and family and complete strangers. It seemed someone helped us in every city, for no gain of their own and no connection to the chapels at all. That farmer gave us a ride from Chorrol; a pair of Argonians let us stay in their house even though they thought the whole Divine Crusader thing was a hoax. Some heathen north of Bruma gave us horses," he finished, making me smile a little.

"So yes," he said finally. "I found my faith. It just wasn't where I thought it would be, is all."

-oOo-

On the cold, quiet morning before we returned home, I said my goodbyes to Calla. The rocky ground of Bruma doesn't lend itself easily to digging; still, the Blades had carved out a place for her, tucked away where she would never be disturbed and never be forgotten.

With Delyn in my arms and Bastion keeping guard I said everything to her grave that I hadn't said to her in life, feeling woefully inadequate but hoping that somehow, some sort of grace would allow her to hear me. She deserved to know of the friendship I'd grown to cherish but that we'd never spoken about, of how I wished with all my heart we'd had more time.

If she _had _heard, she would have laughed at me and pointed out how stupid it was to talk to a rock, and how much better it was that she had died laughing than any other way. Knowing it didn't make it any easier.

I was still wiping away tears by the time I got back to Applewatch, where my family was waiting. Within half an hour there was nothing more to do. It was Hearthfire, and my exile was over, and with Calla gone there was nothing to keep me in Cyrodiil. With one last, lingering look around Applewatch, I left and locked the door behind me. I gave a final glance up at Cloud Ruler Temple and raised a hand in farewell to whoever might be watching, and then Darius called for me, and as a family we headed east, to Morrowind, and home.

This is my story, the tale of how in the rough space of a year I became the Emissary, a queen, and adoptive mother to the last true Septim. The story's been told before and will probably be told again but none of those storytellers were with me, none of them were there when it happened. They invent adventures I never took part in, they omit crucial details, they gloss over how hard it was. They have no idea of how crushingly brutal the lows were, how perilous and glorious the heights. And it isn't their fault. They simply don't know the truth of it.

But I know the truth. And I thought it high time I set the record straight.

-oOo-

_The eyes of the deceived will be opened by the faithful, mercy will come again to Mournhold, and a cuckoo's child will undo Talos' mortal folly._

Fena had thought it was nonsense.

It wasn't.

The first of it had come to pass that day in the Temple district, with the daedra and roses and power.

The second came to pass when Brennan—formerly the Divine Crusader, though he grew to reject the title—came to Mournhold some six months after I did, weary of the expectations of the people of Cyrodiil and content to stay closer to family. In the void left by the passing of Almalexia and the scattering of many former Temple priests, Brennan took it upon himself to become an advocate of the people, working with Marie for the poor, the misplaced, the forgotten. And no matter what else was going on, through victories and troubles great and small, he never let me forget the problems of the least of the citizens of Morrowind.

As for the third part, Delyn was my cuckoo's child, strange and sweet, and not a day went by that I wasn't proud to be called his mother. In time, he did learn the truth about his parentage, and he did play his part in shaping the history of Tamriel. In many ways, my story is only a prologue to his: he traveled farther and ascended greater heights than I ever would, and I think he would have made Calla proud.

I know he made me proud.

But I'm getting ahead of myself. Delyn's story is his own, and I think when the time comes to tell it, he should tell it himself.

* * *

A/N: I firmly believe that no fanfic writer could hope for better readers. I can't thank you all enough for the kind reviews, the thoughtful critique, and the unwavering support. My hat's off to each and every person who took the time to tell me what they thought of the story. I appreciate it, with all sincerity, and I hope you've enjoyed reading as much as I've enjoyed writing.

It's been a hell of a ride, ladies and gentlemen. Thanks for taking it with me.


	68. Epilogue

_4E 7, Mournhold, Palace Gardens_

"Delyn's in the tree again," Meris panted, skidding around the corner flushed and disheveled.

I dropped the proposal I'd been reading and bit back a sigh. Not that there was anything out of the ordinary about a little boy climbing trees, but when that little boy was what Delyn was, and when he'd climb and refuse to come down with a stubbornness I'd previously only associated with Redoran councilors…it wasn't as simple as all that.

Usually it happened once or twice a week. This was the third time in a day.

There was nothing for it. Meris hopped in place and I followed her out to the tree when she put her grubby hand in mine and tugged.

In midsummer the foliage was so thick I could hardly see him, a shifting figure behind the leaves, shy and big-eyed like a wild animal. "Delyn, sweetheart," I began. "You're not supposed to climb when there's not an adult."

Where _was_ Caius, anyway? They were supposed to be at lessons.

In answer there was a rustling of leaves overhead, and he slipped off one little brown shoe and dropped it, and then the other, and then a sock landed on my head. "Delyn," I said again, not half so soft and pushing the sock off my hair. "Get down."

His face poked out through the leaves, freckled and smeared with sap and distinctly embarrassed. "I can't," he admitted, digging his fingers into the tree bark. "I'm stuck."

I couldn't help a frustrated laugh. "It serves you right," I told him.

Meris scowled up at him, indignant and still breathing hard. "You're not supposed to climb."

Delyn's bare toes traced patterns through the air as he kicked his feet. "I like this tree."

Like it or not, stuck was stuck. "Jump, then," I directed, holding out my arms. "Jump and I'll catch you."

"You _won't_," Delyn insisted, oddly distressed. "You can't."

When it became clear he wasn't going to budge I toed off my shoes and grabbed hold of the lowest branch. If he couldn't come down, I'd have to go up and get him. It only took me a few moments to climb up to the broad bough he perched on, pushing leaves out of my face as I sat down beside him, surrounded by green.

Delyn took a sudden interest in the seam of his pants, picking at it innocently.

"What seems to be the trouble?" I asked, putting an arm around his shoulders to reassure myself that he wasn't going to fall.

He ducked his head, silent a moment as the wind whispered through the leaves around us. "Nothing."

"No?"

Delyn's cheeks flushed a little under his freckles. "Bad dreams," he muttered finally. "It's stupid."

"It's not," I protested, pushing a lock of hair away from his face. "Everyone gets bad dreams."

He made an unhappy little noise and burrowed closer into my side, saying nothing. We sat together a moment in green-shaded silence, his finger tracing the back of my hand. "You know," I began, "my mother used to tell me that if you tell someone your nightmares, they don't come true."

He frowned. "You don't _have _a mother."

It twinged in my heart even as I laughed. "Everyone has a mother, even me. Do you think I hatched from an egg?"

A smile twitched at his mouth, dimples appearing in his cheeks. "Like a bird."

I huffed a laugh. "Yes. Like a giant, featherless bird."

He kicked his feet. "But that would make _me _a bird, too."

I arched a brow. "Would it?"

"Yes," he nodded, one hand sneaking over to hold onto my arm, the other braced on the bough. "We're the same."

_I hope not_, I thought. _For your sake._

"What in the world do you think you're doing in that tree?" Caius demanded below us, squinting up through the leaves.

Delyn brightened immediately. "We're birds," he called down with a grin. "We're supposed to live in trees!"

"You are, are you?" came the contemplative reply. "Send your mother down, I've got something she should see."

Delyn seemed better then, clinging to me as I held onto him and climbed down. He grinned and ran off again with Meris the instant his toes touched the ground, forgetting his shoes entirely. "I thought you were watching him," I said, trying to rub sap off my hands and only smearing it.

"I was," he retorted. "He seems to have taken up your little habit of disappearing whenever he wants to get out of something."

Which was all I needed: a little boy with the blood of a god in his veins, who could disappear at will. "There was something you wanted me to see?"

"Here," he said, pulling an envelope from the pocket of his shirt. "Now correct me if I'm wrong, or if my eyes are going, but does this look familiar to you?" The parchment was thick in my fingers, white and heavy, but Caius tapped a finger on the red, imprinted wax. "I imagine it isn't every day they redesign the Emperor's seal."

My throat went dry as dust in an instant. Superimposed on the familiar dragon was an hourglass, split by three lines and interwoven into the original design. "The Emperor's seal?" I repeated, my voice faint even to my own ears. "Cassian sent this?"

He grimaced.

"Has Darius seen this?" I asked numbly. Everything official came to Darius and I'd thought this was over, I'd thought… it had been six years without a word or a trace, all trails gone dead and cold.

"No." Caius pitched his voice low, glancing around the empty garden. "He hasn't seen it, yet. Cassian sent it to you."

It seemed cold, suddenly, despite the summer sun and warm breeze. With a glance at Caius and a deep breath to quell my sudden dread, I unfolded the letter and began to read.


End file.
